Page 9 of Pulled By the Tail
Quil seemed aware of Talen’s mood and jumped up. “I’ll fix it. Just be ready to fly.”
Talen growled but turned back to the console. Using the monitor, he watched Quil opened the hatch, attach a safety tether and lean over the edge. “Be ready,” Quil said over the ship’s comm. Then Talen witnessed his brother take a drill to the tether and disable it in a highly illegal and destructive manner to the station’s property.
“You’re paying when the station sends the repair bill,” Talen muttered into the mic.
“Go.”
The ship pulled away. As it crossed the haze barrier that kept the atmosphere in, the hull sealed shut. The station sent several requests to return to dock and cut off the engine. Talen muted the comm.
“That’s a violation of IU protocol,” Charl said. They had served in the Interstellar Union Navy together and usually, Charl’s instance to still live as if they were bound by IU regulations didn’t bother Talen, but it rubbed him the wrong way today.
“Get off my tail.”
“Don’t snarl at me. I’m not the one who got caught cheating at cards.”
Talen held his tongue. Charl tolerated Quil and his unorthodox recreational activities, but Talen knew his brother irritated his friend.
Good thing they spent so much time together in a tiny ship.
The males managed to avoid each other, despite the size of the ship. Charl spent most of his waking hours in engineering or maintaining the ship’s systems. With the ship’s age—decades beyond the time most vessels were put into retirement—the repairs were never-ending. Quil spent the majority of his time drumming up business to haul cargo and the occasional passenger. Cheating at cards was strictly recreational.
Quil’s stunt today still confused him. He had no idea why Quil would take such a huge risk and use their actual names.
The wayward brother returned, tossing himself into a chair with a dramatic sigh. “Your distraction was flawless but apparently there was a camera just over my shoulder,” Quil said.
Talen calmly set the destination, their usual retreat after a job, and then leaped from his seat toward Quil. He grabbed his brother by the throat, tail lashing viciously behind him. “What was that?”
Charl cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll be down below, watching the engines make pretty colors. Try not to kill each other.”
Quil tossed Talen a charming smile, the one he used to open doors, ease doubts, and convince people he was a harmless fool. “I know you’re upset—”
“You used your real name. Of all the irresponsible, foolish risks to take, I don’t understand. How could you be so selfish?”
“I can explain.”
“Do more than explain.” Talen’s thoughts crowded with the worry that Quil’s actions put their small family—technically his crew but in reality, his family—at risk. All they had in the universe was each other. How could he?
Quil’s legal name, linked with a good image of him, could tie them to everything they left behind on Talmar. If that happened, they would need to do more than lie low for a few weeks at Curiosity Terminal. The station didn’t verify ship information when it came to berth and manifest reporting was voluntary. It was the perfect place for those who played fast and loose with the law to pass the time. Outside of Interstellar Union space, warrants were rarely enforced, but the live-and-let-live attitude of the station management was no protection against a hungry contractor looking to collect a bounty.
“I’m tired,” Quil said.
“Then take a fucking nap—”
“No, Talen, look at me. I. Am. Tired. Of this life. Of the ship. I can’t do this anymore.”
Talen looked at his elder brother, truly looked at him. Despite being younger, Talen had never been the little brother. He stood a good four inches taller than Quil and the years in the IU Navy put solid muscle on his broad frame. Quil could never be described as delicate, but he had a slender, runner’s build. Quil enjoyed good food and wine, to the point of over-indulgence, but kept off the adverse effects with running. Every day, he ran on the treadmill in the makeshift gym in the cargo bay. He ran to the point where Talen heard the whirr of the machine as constant background noise, claiming it helped him think.
But dark circles hung under his eyes. He tossed smiles around with ease, but they didn’t reach his eyes. Talen couldn’t remember the last time Quil had genuinely smiled, or laughed, for that matter. Maybe that time they toured the royal gardens on Fremm, but that had been years ago.
“How long have you felt this way?”
Quil rolled a shoulder. “I’m not sure. It crept up on me. Besides, we have other factors to consider. You surely have noticed that life on the ship is growing harder for Bright—”
Talen’s tail lashed with annoyance. Yes, the ship was designed for a younger person. Yes, their adoptive mother was advancing in age. Yes, the ladders used between the ship’s levels were too much for her aging joints, effectively confining her to one level. “Then you want to sell this parcel of land and upgrade to a larger ship?”
Larger ships came with additional expenses. Their current crew of four lived comfortably—excluding the ladders and Bright’s joints—on the ship. The size of their vessel was just large enough to go anywhere, even long hauls in deep space, and small enough to dock anywhere without racking up enormous fees.
“No, I want us to live there,” Quil said.
