Ficlets

Captain Hayward laughed. “You thought you could beat me? You really thought you could beat me, beat us, with that little ragtag bunch of yours?” He spat at Birch’s feet. “Pathetic. A Drell, two Golbies, a Necht, and a Farler? Up against my men? Just tell me what you were smokin’ when you came up with this plan of yours, ‘cause, hell, I could make a fortune sellin’ it on the black market!”

They didn’t speak, just stared back at Hayward defiantly.

“What’ll we do wit ‘em, Cap’n?” one of the men finally asked.

Hayward laughed. “Lock ‘em up in the brig for now. We’re comin’ up to Bawry in a few days. I’m sure we can get somethin’ for ‘em down at the market when we make port there. In the meantime, get any information you can out of ‘em. Just don’t get too rough with ‘em – they won’t pay if they’re in bad condition.”

“Yes sir!” The men began to lead the little group down to the brig.

“That one especially,” Hayward said as an afterthought, pointing at the Necht. “That one’ll fetch a pretty penny.”