by Jody Wallace
Where was that cat? He’d told her Steven wanted the Mozim power converter and then nothing. Nothing except tinkles and scrapes, but that could have been the wind or a ship rat, since the nasty critters lived all throughout the equatorial band.
“So would you like to see the manifest?” she prompted. “Or are you ready to move on to the next part of the tour? Steven, do you need my help?”
Steven glanced at his skeezeballs, who had begun to shuffle their feet and glower. The tall one, Gullim Vex, said, “We need more time, Wat.”
To do what, steal the part? Not on her watch.
“Time to make a decision?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at the big man. “Please, ask away. Gen ships are more my area of expertise than Steven’s, and I can answer any questions you have. Steven was in charge of service contracts and garages back when he was an associate, oh, three days ago.”
“None of your business.” Steven turned to her, anger pinching his lips into a thin line. It was an expression she’d seen many times, when she outsold and outshone him at the quarterly meetings yet again. “Now that your client has seen the bay, associate, you can leave.”
“We aren’t finished,” she told him placidly and then arched an eyebrow. “If you could give us some privacy? As you know, client negotiations are confidential.”
“You leave so I can negotiate with my clients,” he retorted.
“That would be mighty inconvenient,” Briar argued, hoping the cat would pick up on her request for help. In her peripheral vision, Lincoln had edged away from the machines, and he no longer held the briefcase.
“I was here first, and I’m the director.” Steven stuck out his chest, approaching her and trying to look menacing. “I always knew you were stupid, but that is dumber than usual. I have authority here, not you.”
Briar pressed a hand to her chest in fake distress. “That is completely uncalled for. I’m doing my job.”
“Individual Pandora isn’t dumb,” Lincoln rumbled behind her. Somewhere he’d found a large metal wrench. Did that explain the tapping noises? He grasped it as if it was an extension of his arm. It seemed out of place with his crisply suited self yet completely appropriate. “I asked her to show me the ship and she sought special permission. For me.”
“She didn’t seek permission from me.” Steven had to look up at Lincoln, which made Briar happy. A man getting all aggressive with another man was a man who wasn’t paying attention to her. “As director, I’m revoking the permission. A wrecked ship is no place for a client. It’s too dangerous. You’ll both need to go.”
“You’re here,” Lincoln countered before Briar could argue. What had happened to Lincoln’s reticence and solidity? “I don’t mind some danger.”
The two skeezers swaggered up behind Steven as if they also liked danger. As if they were all about to get into a fight. An actual fight. Hand to hand combat was something Briar had also trained for, as did many on Trash Planet, but she’d never been involved in a brawl.
“Neither do we,” Vex said with a gross laugh—the kind with phlegm in it, as if he wanted you to know he could spit on you at any minute. A clunky EE-gun was strapped to his thigh, and his hand hovered over it. “Danger is Tim’s middle name and his last name, both.”
“Tim Danger Danger?” Briar balanced her weight on the balls of her feet and fingered her chrono, wondering if she should initiate an alert. “That’s an odd name. Like a child’s version of a pirate name.” Tim scowled at her, his lips parting to show the glint of most of a full set of teeth. The man either didn’t have access to nanobots or liked the extra space in his gums.
“Fucking vac head,” Tim muttered.
She smirked and focused on Steven again. “Either way, the rest of the directors—the ones who came in to work today, Steven—are expecting results from me after this tour. That they approved. I’m not sure one director can overrule the other six.”
Her tiny pistol wouldn’t do as much damage as Vex’s long-barreled one, but nobody knew she had a weapon tucked in the sleeve of her dress coveralls. That being said, she didn’t want to shoot anyone.
All right, she did want to shoot Steven. She just didn’t want TUB to know that she’d shot Steven, and it would be difficult to conceal right here in the middle of a union-owned junkyard.
Mighty Mighty, A LITTLE HELP, Briar yelled in her head, not knowing if it would work. Could the cat mellow them out like he had her, last night, when she’d plastered herself all over Lincoln?
She’d only leaned on Lincoln to reach the cat. It had had nothing to do with her relief that Lincoln wasn’t a pirate—that he was a fine, upstanding Trash Planet denizen like herself.
“Are you challenging me, associate?” Steven asked her with another chest puff. Why did men do that? Most didn’t even have breasts—there was simply nothing interesting to see. At least, when they were Steven instead of, say, Lincoln, whose chest she could only imagine. “Are you refusing a command from a director? I can have you written up. Or probationed.”
“Probationed is not a word, Steven.” She cocked out a hip and turned one boot to the side, projecting a lack of care. Beside her, Lincoln growled softly as Steven tried to daunt her with his somewhat larger size.
“That’s Director Wat.” Steven practically stamped his foot. An increase in skittering noises near some of the disassembled machinery concerned her, but not as much as goading Steven and his pirates into flouncing out of here.
All they needed was five little minutes. Wasn’t the cat supposed to have their backs? Why wasn’t he pushing the bad guys?
Well, she’d never needed a mindreading cat to do her job before. One of the things Steven hated most was to be patronized by someone he considered inferior, so Briar decided to go full condescension. If anything was going to send him running out of here to probation her or some other nonsense, it would be that.
She wagged a finger at the man who was her boss, but only on paper. “Do the other directors even know you’re here, you naughty thing? I should contact them. We can pitch to our clients together, won’t it be fun? Especially considering, you know, my sell-through rate is so much higher than yours.” She lifted her chrono to her mouth. It doubled as a comm as needed. Among other things.
“No.” Steven shot forward and grabbed her arm. He yanked her almost off her feet, and she stuttered forward with a squeal. “You stupid bitch. You’re going to ruin everything.”
“That hurts!” And it did, but she could use it.
Swallowing the discomfort, Briar raised her other hand to hit the emergency alarm on her chrono, which would alert the directors and record what Steven was doing. Then she’d take him down with a sideswipe to the knees. This was the first time she’d been able to engage in a physical fight, and she was pretty stoked.
Before she could, Lincoln moved faster than the eye could see, considering she wasn’t looking. He brought the wrench down on Steven’s arm. There was a horrendous crack, and Steven screamed with pain and fear.
His arm dangled in a sickening fashion. His business coat hid any visible broken bones or blood, but it was obviously a dire injury.
“Lincoln!” Briar exclaimed. Vex, after a fumble, unholstered his long-barreled gun and pointed it at Lincoln. “I was going to handle things my way.”
“Don’t touch the lady,” Lincoln said in a deadly voice. “Smaller than you, no threat, no consent. I don’t like bullies.”
“Wat’s smaller than you and didn’t consent,” said Tim Danger Danger. “What’s the dif, you richie rich fucker?”
“I don’t like him.” Lincoln stepped slightly in front of Briar, between her and the skeezers and Steven, who was whining and moaning about ripping people’s guts out in revenge. It wasn’t especially convincing with him on his knees, cradling his arm and sweating profusely in agony. “He’s about to pass out. May want to…”
Steven pitched over, onto his broken arm. The skeezers looked at him, then back at Lincoln, and smiled in a way that chilled
Briar’s blood. Steven was inept, but these two men were an unknown quantity. Trash Planet—the galaxy—was not a friendly place.
Yet Lincoln didn’t seem intimidated by the menace emanating from the pirates. He smacked the wrench against his palm. “Are we gonna go, then?”
The two men exchanged a glance. Should she get her gun out? How far away were Unker and the crew? She could alert them with her chrono, but she maintained a small hope of finding that power converter, not possible with an audience.
“You’re not from any fucking Oka Conglomerate,” Tim said as Steven muttered and drooled on the cold, dirty floor. “Not with a swing like that.”
Why did that matter? Anybody could whack Steven with a wrench and break him. He was a reed with bad eating habits who did nothing to support his health besides buy nanobots.
“I know a rip-off when I see one,” Lincoln said. “Does it matter where I’m from?”
“You’re fired, you bitch,” Steven moaned. “Assaulting a… Your chip’ll be… Fired fired fired. I’m a…director. You’re fired.”
“I am…not fired. I’m the top seller.” Briar stumbled over her words. Was she losing her grip on the situation? She’d trained for this. Imagined it. This was what her secret job was supposed to be like. Sneaking and fighting and outwitting pirates and bad guys. How was this going so sideways, so terribly?
“You heard the man.” Tim pointed an EE-pistol at Briar. Where had the second gun come from? “You’re fired, motor mouth. Get out. This is our zheng now.”
The skin around Steven’s lips had turned white with pain and rage. Never a good sign when he quit spluttering and went for the throat.
“Kill them,” Steven growled. Vex grinned. “Ten thou apiece. No, twenty for her.”
“I’d do it for free, but I’ll take the DICs.” Vex raised his weapon.
Lincoln jumped in front of her and hauled back like he was going to throw the wrench. While she could use his body to hide her gun, she didn’t have to disguise her fear when she said, “This is a little drastic, St…Steven.”
The gun caught on the hidden strap and wouldn’t slide out of her sleeve. Briar whispered a curse. It didn’t help.
“I’ve always hated you,” Steven snarled. “This is perfect. Now you can’t tell anyone I—”
“Wot’s going on in here?” called a man’s voice from the doorway. Unker, the foreman for the strip team. He wore regulation Tank Union coveralls, a hard hat, and the ubiquitous Trash Planet beard. The affection she felt for him and his sudden appearance right now was somewhat disproportionate, but they did have a good working relationship.
Tim spoke first, before Briar could gather her thoughts.
“Can you believe it? This snotty richie rich jumped the director,” Tim said to Unker, whose gaze landed on Lincoln and Briar. Steven moaned in agreement. The rest of the strip team crowded through the door of the cryopod bay, eyes widening at the scene before them. “The woman told him to because the director got the job she wanted.”
“I did no such thing,” she said, but throwing Lincoln under the ground crawler would hardly achieve their goal. “Steven threatened me. Grabbed my arm and it hurt. You know how he is.” She’d add that Steven tried to get Vex to kill her in a moment.
“She’s lyin’,” Vex said. He’d hidden his gun the minute Unker had arrived. “She’s tryna pinch the sale. Me and Tim here are gonna offer lots of money for the cryopods, and she don’t want nobody making profit but her. Thinks she can get the new director kicked out.”
“We haven’t inventoried in here yet,” Unker said uncertainly. The rustling and scraping deeper in the cryobay cranked up, but Briar couldn’t risk a glance to see what was happening. She had a situation to manage. “Director Wat, we weren’t told you would be on the premises.”
“I don’t think he has permission,” Briar said with a hiss for emphasis. “They were taking apart machines.”
“I don’t have to report to the staff,” Steven wheezed. Something clattered behind a stack of crypods, but nobody else seemed to notice. “Briar Pandora is fired. Probationed. Banned!” He said that last one at a shriek. “Escort her and her client out of here and notify the board of her actions.”
“Notify the board that their newest director is a long-term cheater who tried to…to steal parts before you could inventory them,” Briar said to Unker, appealing to the man’s pride in his work. “That’s what he was doing here. Then he assaulted me when I interrupted his scheme. He wanted to kill us.”
It was, after all, true—for both of them. But Steven had started it.
“I defended Individual Pandora,” Lincoln said in a serious voice. When he spoke, even the skeezers listened. “Anyone who can is supposed to defend the defenseless.”
Would it work? Unker nodded slowly. Was he the type of person to defend the defenseless?
“That some weakling Oka thing?” Vex sneered. “You Oka runts, always thinking you’re better than the rest of us, refusing to trade or travel, but you ain’t in Oka now.”
“Do I look like I…can assault anybody?” Steven puffed in a surprisingly astute ploy. He absolutely did not appear to be an assaulter, unless you counted backstabbing. “Richie riches come here thinking they can do what they want, take what they want, cheat us and laugh. Nobility doesn’t rule on Trash Planet. Get them out of here, Unker, and there’s a pay raise in it for you. Loyalty to the board gets rewarded.”
Briar’s jaw dropped. “That’s a bribe. An actual bribe, like, in our faces. And Steven has nanobots. He’ll be fine.” In a rush of frustration, she gave into one tiny urge to just kick Steven a little in his floppy arm.
He howled. Lincoln clapped a big hand on her shoulder, as if she was the troublemaker. Unker gave her a disappointed headshake.
“How much of a pay raise?” he asked Steven.
“I cannot believe you’d take his word over mine,” Briar said. She should have recorded it. Damn and blast!
Unker shrugged. “I need a raise. And I just saw you assault a director with your, uh, foot.”
Briar’s face went as hot as a supernova this time, so hot that water sprang from her eyes to escape the fire. “He had it coming.”
“Individual Pandora, time to leave,” Unker said. “I know what I saw.”
The strip team spread out as if they’d have to corral her, but their gazes were pinned on Lincoln, not her. The feelings most folks on Trash Planet had toward the elite—so-called nobles, self-styled royals, and other ruling corporations—were only positive when money was changing hands. Lincoln hadn’t bought anything yet, and he had attacked one of their own.
She could use the broadcast stun setting on her pistol to neutralize Steven and the pirates, but the strip team was too much. What was she going to do? Give up and leave? Be fired? When she’d gotten so close?
As it happened, she didn’t have to decide. A large bang followed by a small explosion rattled the cryobay.
I obtained the converter, so make haste, cat friends,” Mighty shouted in her head, right before a herd of motley ship rats raced out of the depths of the huge room.
The rats fled whatever had startled them—probably the explosion—squeaking and hissing and running straight at the humans. The strip team scattered, dashing out the entrance or climbing onto the stacks of pods. Ship rats were large and venomous, and Briar didn’t trust her coveralls to protect her. This many rats could take down a person in a very ugly way.
“Get me out of here!” Steven wailed. Tim and Vex hauled him to his feet and double-dragged him toward the doors.
Lincoln gave her a small shove in the same direction. “Meet you outside. Gotta get the carrier.” He darted toward the briefcase with startling speed, straight toward the incoming rats.
“Lincoln, wait up!” Briar shook the stun pistol from her sleeve and chased after him. Flicking the setting to spray, she blasted at the ship rats closest to Lincoln’s goal.
As she ran, a bright arch of light sizzled through the
nasty creatures, sending them plunging in other directions. Her aim was true. Lincoln reached the briefcase safely, snatched it up, and held out his hand to her.
“Up with you.” She joined him, and he flung her halfway up onto a large, rectangular machine cage. They both scrabbled to the top, panting, as the rats flooded out of the ship’s interior.
“Still gonna have to escort you off the property, Individual Pandora,” Unker called over the scratch and rustle of hundreds of departing paws. He’d climbed a pod stack to wait out the stampede. Not that ship rats couldn’t climb—but they weren’t chasing the humans so much as escaping whatever had frightened them. “I’ve notified the directors, and they are in agreement.”
Briar opened her mouth to protest and shut it again. Those old jackholes didn’t know a good sales associate when they had one. Putting Steven on the board instead of her. Tossing her out on her heiney on Steven’s word instead of hers. Well, and his broken arm. And the fact that she’d kicked him in front of everyone, while he lay writhing on the ground in pain.
She should have started her chrono recording the minute she’d found him in the cryo bay. Now it was too late.
The pit of her stomach was a black hole of shame and failure. But Mighty had gotten the part. She had to remember that.
“You picked the wrong person, but I won’t hold it against you,” she called back to Unker.
Unker just stared at her, and her face heated, so she said to Lincoln, “Thanks for helping me climb up here.”
“You should have run.” Lincoln’s expression, formerly rather ferocious, was impassive again. They lay side by side on the machine, bodies touching all the way down as ship rats squeaked and tumbled, and he didn’t even seem to enjoy her closeness.
Last night he had. Sort of. He hadn’t leaned away from her.
If they’d gotten what they’d come here for, if they could save the Catamaran, did it matter that she’d lost Lincoln’s smidgen of respect and her job and her other job and pretty much everything she’d worked toward for ten years?