Free Dieselpunk: An Anthology by Craig Gabrysch Page A

going on here?”
    Mr. Smith didn’t move. Neither did Missy Gin.
    “I was just setting Mr. Smith straight on ship rules,” Missy Gin said, still looking at Mr. Smith’s blue, blue eyes. She hated them eyes. She hated them so close, still looking at her an nothing else. She clenched her jaw an looked right back.
    “ Well, that sounds reasonable,” Mr. Bourbon said, an looked over both eyes at Mr. Smith. “An is he amenable to following them, is the question.”
    Mr. Smith transferred his eyes to Mr. Bourbon, but there weren’t much his blue gaze could do agin a glass one. He looked for a bit, then leaned back up, pulling his hands back off the bar an dusting them off like they was dirty. Missy Gin hated that, too.
    “I am amenable to anything that helps me meet my ends,” he said, taking his cane from his arm an putting it back on the floor, folding both hands over it. “Perhaps I should explain myself, an then you’ll feel more like helping me. I assure you, there is no theft involved.”
    He paused, like he expected this would make everything hunky-dory. It did not, of course.
    “So if there’s nothing illegal, why’s there need to threaten me?” Missy Gin asked.
    “ Ah,” Mr. Smith said. “I said nothing about legality.” He glanced at Mr. Bourbon. “Perhaps we can discuss this privately?”
    “ No,” Missy Gin said.
    Mr. Smith looked pointedly around the room. Dinner was soon, so guests had started sprouting like mushrooms, in singles or pairs or tiny, grumbling groups, moseying towards their assigned tables an muttering when they found em. Girlchilds an boychilds were laying out fixings for the meal, an the whole room hummed.
    But Missy Gin was feeling right wrathy. “You had no call to threaten no one,” she told Mr. Smith, sitting up from the bar an tipping her hat back to see them blue eyes. “So either you tell us straight what you want, no tricks, no chicanery, or you go right smack out that door an don’t show tail here again. In fact I’ve half-a-mind to send you outn here anyhow whatever you say.”
    Mr. Smith looked at her for a few seconds, then shrugged. “In that case,” he said, an stepped back, pulling out a chair from a table an sitting on it, crossing his arms an looking up at Missy Gin an Mr. Bourbon. “I will be frank. I have two people from Yesterday aboard my schooner. They want to go home. I have agreed to make arrangements to get them there so long as they pay me. They have agreed to pay me so long as they get there. So, really, we are all in agreement, except for you.” He looked between them. “Does that sound innocuous enough? Believe me, I wouldn’t have come to you for criminal activities. You’re far too soft for my liking. This is for personal satisfaction only.”
    Missy Gin glanced up at Mr. Bourbon. Mr. Bourbon glanced down at Missy Gin.
    “ Bring them,” Mr. Bourbon said.
    “ What?”
    “ Bring them on board the Don’t Look Back ,” Mr. Bourbon said. “Surely you have no reason to keep them locked aboard your schooner.” He eyed — with the glass one — Mr. Smith.
    Mr. Smith considered, then nodded. “I will, but must it be in this main hall? They are very skittish, you know. Very leery of a here-an-ago they can barely tolerate. Surely you have a more private place?”
    Missy Gin wasn’t going to say anything, so Mr. Bourbon answered: “For’ard crew cabin, fifteen minutes. An I’d like to watch while you bring them.”
    “ Certainly,” Mr. Smith said, standing.
    Mr. Bourbon glanced back at Missy Gin. “Seems we might all need to hear this,” he said.
    Missy Gin nodded. “I’ll bring them as ain’t occupied.”
    “ I’d appreciate that,” Mr. Bourbon said, then followed Mr. Smith out.
     
     
    She did indeed. She took everyone she could, which wasn’t much. Some could let boychilds or girlchilds step in for them, but them as couldn’t was the helmsman (that was Father Cordial, who, holding the wheel one hand an taking his pipe