Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
After the ever-present dark of Meadow and Winter, the brilliant, coral afternoon light on Sang’s starport was blinding.
Connor rubbed his eyes as Selen descended toward the vehicle rental facility on the edge of the starport. The entire facility was bustling with activity, from the sparkling glass and metal of the terminal where people were disembarking or loading onto orbital shuttles to the blocky, hunched commercial buildings that housed small businesses.
Their destination was an oblong gray-white, car-cluttered slab of concrete.
Selen set down in the check-in area, a ten meter square framed by green diagonal lines. The concrete there was chipped and stained by lubricants.
Connor climbed out of the vehicle and sucked in the cool, fresh air.
“Fresh” was relative. The air was actually thick with the sharp smell of harsh detergents leaking from barely hidden nozzles in the concrete. Those nozzles would rise up on robotic arms and spray the vehicle once check-in was complete.
A red, cylindrical robot that barely reached Selen’s hip rolled toward her on clanking treads. “Good afternoon, Customer ERB-7102585!” The intonation and timber of the machine’s voice was meant to be pleasing.
Selen slammed her door and patted the vehicle. “Just like new.”
Long, slender robotic arms telescoped out of the concrete and rotated around the vehicle, whirring and clacking. They were scanning the chassis and undercarriage with lasers.
The robot stopped in its tracks. “Oh, no.”
“What?” Selen ran a hand along the hood. “It purred the whole time.”
“There are multiple holes in it! The damage is significant!”
“Holes? You trying to rip me off?”
One of the robotic arms extended a small pole and probed a hole in the rear windshield.
Selen shrugged. “I thought that was for ventilation.”
“These holes were not present when you rented the vehicle. I am afraid that Customer ERB-7102585 will need to pay for damages.”
“Nah. I purchased insurance.”
“This facility does not offer insurance that will pay for this level of damage, and our inventory consists of only the most well-maintained—”
“Listen, Red—” Selen pulled a pistol from a holster at the small of her back. It was a specialized gun and holster, made of undetectable materials and meant for only a few shots.
A simple robot like Red wouldn’t survive one of those shots.
It let out a metallic squeal and rolled backwards several centimeters before coming to a stop.
Connor threw up his hands. “Selen, don’t.”
“Stay out of this, Connor. I’ve had a crappy day.”
“We both have. That doesn’t justify shooting up a helpless robot.”
“I bought insurance!”
“You destroy that robot, and you’ll be liable for that as well as the car.” She should’ve just taken off when he’d climbed in down in Winter. Why had she been so petulant?
Selen pressed the barrel against the dome of Red’s processing core. “I’m not paying.”
“Selen?” The voice came from the direction of one of the square, commercial buildings. It was a dull green building with a stamped metal facade. “Selen Erbaykent? Is that you?”
When Selen looked up, the red robot retreated on squeaking treads, rolling out of sight behind a black ground car with a caved-in door.
Well-maintained inventory? Connor snorted.
When he looked up, a man slightly taller than Selen—nearly Connor’s height—was hurrying through the maze of cars. This man was old and his skin was wrinkled and leathery. His wheat-colored hair was thinning on top but thick on the sides but the mustache beneath his heavy nose was white.
Connor edged closer to Selen. “You know this guy?”
“Maybe.” She squinted. “Oh. Crap.”
The man came to a stop at the edge of the green diagonal box. “Well, would you look at that?”
Selen crossed her arms. “Mosiah.”
“What are you doing in Talon space?”
“Same question, back at you.”
Connor had never heard mention of anyone named Mosiah in any of Selen’s tales about her mercenary operations. The way she was acting, it looked like there weren’t any good memories attached to the old man.
Mosiah breathed in—a wheezy sound. His right hand drifted up to his neck and absently rubbed what looked like an old scar that ran around it. “Well, actually, I’ve come to conclude old business.”
An awkward silence gave Connor the opportunity to insert himself. He took a step, then stretched a hand out. “Connor Rattakul. I’m Selen’s second.”
For an old man, Mosiah had a strong grip. “Her second, huh? What happened to Gustav. It was Gustav, right?”
Selen didn’t budge. “Took a bullet to the throat about ten years ago.”
“Sorry to hear that. He was a good man.” Mosiah shoved his hands into his heavy, brown cargo pants. His lightweight shirt was a yellow patterned batik. He turned toward Connor. “I’d imagine this young man is cut from the same cloth.”
It was the sort of compliment that could be gratuitous and manipulative, but Mosiah sounded sincere enough that Connor blushed. “Thanks, but I’m not sure of that at the moment.”
“Oh? Having some trouble?”
“I’ve kind of put the operation in a bind.”
Mosiah’s back straightened. “You’re between jobs, then?”
Selen almost launched herself, bumping her shoulder into Connor before coming to a stop. “We’re looking some opportunities over. If you’ll excuse us?”
She tugged on Connor’s wrist as she cut left, heading toward the free bus system that would take them to their ship, which was parked out on the tarmac. He followed after her, nodding at the old man.
But Mosiah stepped between Selen and Connor, squeezing his arm. “I’m looking to hire a team. If your Devils are as good as they used to be—”
Selen whipped around. “I’m the only one left.”
“But you’re good. You know how to run an operation.”
“I’m not interested.”
Connor gaped. The man was making an offer without conditions. He didn’t know about the bounty or all the other strange goings on. They couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this.
But Selen had once again turned on a heel and started away. “Connor.”
He couldn’t do anything more than offer a sympathetic frown to the old man. “Sorry.”
Mosiah trailed them. “Hear me out. Please. Whatever these other jobs are paying, I’ll beat it. I’ll pay for your rental…your docking fess.”
Selen waved over her shoulder. “No deal.”
“You know I have the money, Selen!”
“Not interested.”
Connor picked up the pace to keep up with her, and to his relief, the old man finally stopped following them about fifty meters shy of the bus stop. But when the bus arrived, he was still where he’d stopped, watching after them.
After Selen plopped into a seat on the rumbling vehicle and Connor had taken the spot beside her, he sucked in a deep breath. “Can I ask why?”
Her head spun around, eyes narrowed into slits. “You do, and you’ll be packing your bags when we get back to the ship.”
That was it—the matter was closed.
They’d been looking at a sure thing, a job they might have been able to name their price on.
And Selen had shut it down.
Why?
It made about as much sense as everything else that had happened since she’d decided to come to Mara. If Connor hoped to understand what was going on, he’d have to do it without provoking Selen.
There was no mistaking it: She’d been serious when she threatened to fire him.