Negative Return: A Durga System Novella (Durga System Series Book 2)

by Jessie Kwak

  An uneasy feeling pokes at the back of Manu’s mind. Whatever the job is, this crew is too odd a mix. He’d expected thugs like Beni and Kai to be running with Jaantzen, and Gia with her prison tats isn’t a stretch. But Oriol seems too sophisticated for this kind of mess. And the girl, Toshiyo . . . He wonders if she’s been kidnapped, somehow. Brainwashed.

  “Job seems rushed, yeah?” he asks. “What’s your take?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Not into speculation?”

  “I get the job done, then get out.”

  “You’re not the type likes to draw out the fun? I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Oriol shoots him a wry look. “I take the money that’s offered.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, too,” Manu says with a wink.

  The response he gets is a raised brow.

  “You worked with the man before?”

  It’s the subtle kick of his foot that tells Manu no, though Oriol only shrugs.

  “How’d you get the gig?”

  “Man, anybody tell you you ask too many questions?”

  “Just Gia so far today. Oh, and Kai.”

  Oriol’s gaze slides to the cut on Manu’s cheek. His expression is dark, but it’s gone so quickly most would’ve missed it. No love lost between Kai and Oriol, then. Good to know.

  “Well. Manu Juric, you ask too many questions,” Oriol says. “Another man might tell you that with his fist.”

  Manu knows who those other men are — he was raised by one — and he knew Oriol wasn’t one of them when he started his pestering. But Oriol just lays back on the cot, one knee bent, eyes closed, one arm folded under his head. His shirt’s riding up just enough for Manu to get another glimpse of the jagged scar scrawled over his hipbone.

  Gia catches his eye from across the room; she’s typing into a hand terminal, one hip cocked against the desk, Kai at her side. She jerks her chin, a summons.

  “I’m gonna go talk to Gia. You got everything you need?”

  Oriol doesn’t open his eyes. “I’ll talk to Gia myself,” he says.

  KAI PULLS himself taller as Manu walks up; if Gia notices the display, she’s ignoring it. Manu gives the big man his deference in a quick nod — his pride has never been dependent on pissing contests. Kai’s chin lifts in satisfaction.

  “Everything I need’s in my gear bag,” Manu says, and Gia looks up from her comm. “But I could probably use some more of those hornet tags.”

  Gia arches an eyebrow. “What for?”

  “They’re distracting. And fun.”

  “Nobody’s blowing up anything,” Kai growls.

  Manu shrugs. “You got it, boss. Then I just need a change of clothes.”

  Gia’s gaze flickers to the blood soaking into his collar before she gives him a once-over. “I think my sister’s got pants in her closet would fit you. Want me to pick up some eyeliner from her, too?”

  Manu flashes his teeth in a smile. “Nah, I got some in my gear bag. Along with several guns I think you’ll find quite impressive.”

  She’s giving him a look, chin down and eyebrows raised like is he for real.

  “Several,” he says again, and now he can see Gia can’t decide whether to laugh or tell him to fuck off. They’re making baby steps.

  Kai’s just giving him a glare — the big man’s standard expression, Manu’s starting to think. He wonders if the glare softens when he’s kissing a lover. Or being snuggled by puppies. Manu wonders what it would take to make Kai laugh.

  “You are gonna give me my gear bag back, yeah?” he asks the big man, gets a reluctant nod. “And my comm? Good.” Turns back to Gia. “Then I just need the change of clothes. Thanks, Giaconda.” A flare of nostrils. Ah, noted. That’s not the name to use in the future.

  “Gia, I sent a list to your comm,” says a voice from behind him; Manu lifts his chin to greet the mousy girl. Toshiyo. She blinks at him, like she’s trying to remember where she’s seen him before.

  “How did you know my — ” Gia’s comm buzzes. She frowns at it. “What’s a Lumar lens?”

  Toshiyo launches into an explanation while Gia scrambles to take notes.

  Manu tunes it out, more amused by watching Kai try to follow along. “What’s our objective?” Manu asks him.

  The big man blinks. “Ain’t important.”

  “I’d say it’s pretty important, if it’s worth whatever you’re paying us all,” he says, and he hears Toshiyo’s explanation stutter and loop, just the once; she’s listening. Gia’s stylus is paused over her comm, but she’s still got her eyes on Toshiyo. “I’m sure we didn’t all come out of the bargain basement like yours truly.”

  A muscle’s twitching in Kai’s jaw. “Ain’t important,” he says again, and Gia starts typing along with Toshiyo’s explanation once more.

  “Thanks, boss,” Manu says with a smile so wide it stings his cheek.

  As he turns to go, Kai grunts something; Manu turns back in time to catch the object Kai’s tossed to him.

  His comm.

  There’s that, at least.

  IT’S nice to have his comm back, but Manu’d really kill for his gear bag right about now. Not for the weaponry — Manu isn’t stupid enough to give that a try, not until he knows the lay of the land. But he has a toothbrush in there, a change of underwear. The basics.

  And some not-so-basics: a tiny bottle of good face wash, eyeliner, deodorant. He won’t try to get the word from Oriol again today, but Manu still smells like old blood and fear-sweat from the murder dungeon and he’s certain it’ll be wafting over to Gia and Toshiyo tonight. Sorry, ladies.

  Still, the comm is something. He thumbs it on, is gratified to see that they haven’t managed to break his encryption, though they’ve obviously tried.

  A single message is buried in his secret inbox, from Sylla’s number, from hours earlier: CALL ME.

  Manu lies back on his cot and gives the screen a few taps. CANT TALK NOW JOBS STILL ON.

  He waits. Fifteen seconds, maybe twenty before his screen flashes.

  SO YOUR STILL ALIVE. CALL ME.

  CANT TALK NOW.

  CALL ME.

  Manu sits half-up on his cot. Kai and Beni are arguing in the corner, Oriol appears to be trying to sleep, Gia is cleaning a gun — Manu’ll have to watch where she stashes that, it could be his chance — and Toshiyo is back on her cot exactly as he first saw her, hunched over her strange hand terminal behind a curtain of silky black hair.

  There’s a door across from the washroom that leads to a balcony. Manu strolls towards it, and except for a brief glance from Kai no one goes after him. Good to know: Kai doesn’t think there’s any escape this way.

  Kai’s right. It’s just a narrow overhang overlooking nothing but other warehouses, with a long and messy fall to the pavement below. They’re not far from the docking yards, and the rumble of magtrucks on the shipping lanes is loud and close. If they’re bugging conversations out here they probably can’t pick up much.

  Manu taps out Sylla’s number. Leans back against the low wall surrounding the balcony so he can see the door, the sharp edge of the concrete biting into his lower back. His cheek feels swollen and fever hot in the cool night air; it aches to put on the fake smile he affects even though he’s only initiated a voice call.

  Sylla’s fast to answer. “Manu. Hon.” Her husky voice is two ragged steps past sultry, but she still wields it like a diva. “Thank God.”

  The sentiment’s feigned, he knows, but it still hooks him sharp right below the sternum. When’s the last time he came through a bad job and had someone care he’d made it? Not since Marisa — well, not since before he told her what he actually did for a living.

  Although even in the good days, Marisa had really only cared that he’d made it to dinner on time.

  “I’m all good,” he says, half to Sylla, half to himself. “I’m fine.”

  “I was so worried about you.”

  “No need to worry.” But Manu spikes to attent
ion. Sylla doesn’t worry about full crew, much less a loner like him. And as much as he’d like to flatter himself, she’s not that interested in anything but his potential as a crew member.

  And if she’s not worried about him, that means she’s worried about what he might say to Jaantzen.

  “Coulda got yourself hurt,” Sylla purrs.

  “Nobody knows a thing,” he says, hoping that’s enough to reassure her.

  “Mmm?” Muffled, she’s talking to someone away from the mic. There’s a familiar noise in the background, something he can’t quite place, like a wind chime. He tries to remember if Sylla has any wind chimes in her lair.

  “Nobody here knows about us.”

  “Of course not. Where are you, hon?”

  “I’m still on the job. I’m safe.” Not that he believes that. But she needs to, or she’ll think he’s a liability.

  He hears that muffled voice again, wonders if they’re trying to track him. That should be impossible with this comm, but still he won’t bet his life on it. That familiar chiming comes again from the other end of the line, along with a sound like a magtruck shuddering on a patch of bent track. He frowns. He doesn’t think Sylla’s lair is on a magtruck line.

  “You going back to your place?” she asks.

  “I’m still on the job.”

  Sharp sucked-in breath, a snip of clicking teeth. “You with him?”

  “Undercover, like.”

  She snaps a command to whoever’s out of range of the comm. “Like hell, undercover. I heard about the circus you put on at his bar — word’s been spreading thick, Manu. Old folks’ homes is buzzing with the news. Babies talkin bout it, hon. You think you’re undercover with him, you being played.” A wet cough. “And you being played, I being played.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s under control.”

  “Don’t worry? I don’t just have your sorry ass to take care of. Hon, I got me a whole crew I gotta keep safe. Come on in. I’ll protect you.”

  But he’s not crew, and he never will be after this botched attempt. Not unless he can make amends, pass the attack at the bar off as Phase One of the Flashy Secret Plan. Sylla wants him to come in, but not so she can protect him. She wants to protect her own.

  And Manu isn’t one of her own.

  “Manu? Hon? You there?”

  Manu’s been listening to the silence beyond her voice. He knows that familiar shuddering magtruck catching on the bent track. He knows that wind chime.

  Marisa bought it for him for his birthday last year.

  Sylla Mar and her thugs are inside his apartment.

  “Manu?”

  “I’m still on the job,” is all he says. “Trust me.”

  He thumbs off the call.

  Sylla’s hunting him already.

  He rubs the back of his neck and stares at the bright maw of doorway he just came through. It dawns on him that the safest place for him to be right now is inside that warehouse working for Bulari’s most hated thug.

  He comes back to Sylla without this kill, he’s a dead man.

  5

  Easy Peasy

  When he comes back in, everyone’s as he left them. Beni and Kai both look up as he enters; Gia’s with them now, too, and someone’s pulled out a pack of holocards. The three are playing a surly game of mystix; Beni plucks a card from the table and barks out profanity as it shifts from red to green and spoils the flush he thought he’d drawn.

  Toshiyo’s still sitting crosslegged on her cot, attention buried in her hand terminal.

  Manu drags his feet as he approaches, scuffs his heel. Coughs. Toshiyo doesn’t seem to track his approach. “Hey,” he says when he’s standing at the foot of her cot.

  Toshiyo jumps, startled. She blinks at him a moment as though placing him. “Manu,” she says, and he’s not sure if it’s a greeting or she’s just jogging her own memory.

  “Yeah, hey.” He jerks his chin over his shoulder at the card game. “Not much for mystix?”

  Toshiyo blinks over at the others. “What are they playing?”

  “Seriously? Where you from?”

  “Korin. Ruby Basin. I don’t play a lot of games.”

  “Everybody here’s playing some sort of game.” He tries to say it lightly, like it doesn’t mean anything.

  “I’m not playing a game,” Toshiyo says, tilting her hand terminal towards him. Misunderstanding. “I’m getting into the security feeds at the hotel.”

  “Yeah? Anything good?” She’s scooted over on her cot, so he sits, assuming it’s an invitation. She doesn’t seem to notice.

  “They have three video systems,” Toshiyo says. “I’ve only gotten into the first one.” Her hand terminal’s screen is a sandstorm of letters and numbers; Manu can’t make heads or tails of it. “This is the main feed — it looks like it covers most of the hotel, except for the lobby. The two other feeds cover various parts of the floor, but they’re a lot harder to break into.”

  “Lemme guess. We need eyes in the lobby.”

  “It’s not fun without a challenge.”

  Manu glances at her, but the girl doesn’t seem to be saying it ironically. “You try saying that when you’re the one might have to walk in and shoot up the place,” he says.

  Toshiyo blinks at him as though considering if she’d miss him. Or any of them. “What happened to your face?” she asks instead.

  “It’s a new part of my beauty regimen,” Manu says. “Do you think it’s working?”

  Toshiyo just laughs. “I bet Gia could fix it up quick so it doesn’t scar,” she says. “I’ve seen a lot of that in the mines — medtech is expensive out there, but plenty of people are willing to pay if it’s their face.”

  “I’ll ask her about that,” Manu says, but he won’t — not until after. Until this job’s done, he’s got a reminder every time he looks in the mirror. Thing is, Manu’s still not sure what he wants the cut to remind him of. That he screwed up bad, or that he owes Kai a scar of his own. A bit of both, he guesses.

  “What’s your deal?” he asks.

  “My deal?” Toshiyo frowns at him. “Oh — I analyze data for Blacklode. Analyzed, I mean. I’m a — was an ops tech.”

  “How do you get in with this crew? It’s an awful long way from Ko — from the Ruby Basin.” He already can’t remember the name of the shit little town she just said she was from.

  “Oh.” Toshiyo blushes, stares down at the device in her hands. “Jaantzen paid off my indenture.”

  “He bought out your indenture?” But that isn’t what she said, is it. Manu’s eyes go wide. “He paid off your indenture? Like, just so you’d do this job?”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it,” Toshiyo says, wincing, and for a split second Manu feels guilt at pressing her so far — but that’s the game, isn’t it? Get the information? He’s not on anyone’s side here.

  “I tried to collect a bounty on Jaantzen,” he says. Change the subject, give her some quid pro quo to make her comfortable again. “But I guess I managed to both underestimate him and impress him at the same time. He convinced me to join his crew instead.” None of the crew seem the type to gossip, but if Toshiyo isn’t tight with her stories — and she’s clearly not — this is the version he’d rather get around. None of this “He tied me to a chair and Kai beat me to a bloody pulp” nonsense.

  “He’s a very impressive man,” Toshiyo says, then presses her lips tight. He’s spooked her, now.

  The gesture seems familiar — and Manu finally places it. Toshiyo’s got a way about her that reminds him of a cousin, years ago.

  His only cousin, she was about his age. He remembers years of rambunctious laughter getting shushed in their grandmother’s house, how those years faded just like her color as she and Manu got older and both their daddies got meaner. Siggy, everybody called her. Sigmaria was her real name, just like that Arquellian pop star who was making the rounds on the music feeds at the time.

  What happened to cousin Siggy, he
remembers being told by his father with a backhand, by his grandmother with a pinch to the arm, was none of his business. None of his business that Siggy stopped speaking, stopped playing, turned gray and frozen when her own father came back to their grandmother’s to pick her up each night.

  Just like whatever happens to Toshiyo or Oriol or Sylla or whoever is none of his business.

  Manu’s not on anyone’s team but his own.

  “Hey, you got a map of the area around that hotel? There’s this bar, right across the street. My old boyfriend used to love that place.” It had actually been Marisa’s favorite, but Toshiyo sits up straighter, and whether it’s the distraction of the work or the assumption that he won’t be hitting on her, he’s not sure. Whatever it is, she snaps back into herself.

  “Yeah, I got that right here.” Again, Manu can only see streams of numbers on her hand terminal. “I’ll send that over.”

  She’s easy peasy, which is good. If Toshiyo is working close with Jaantzen, being tight with her might just be his key to getting close to his target without arousing suspicion. Because Jaantzen certainly isn’t going to let him into killing distance on his own.

  “Great. My number is — ” His comm’s screen flashes. Manu frowns at it. “How’d you get this number?”

  Toshiyo’s eyebrows knit together like the question doesn’t make sense. He thinks of the attempted break-in on his comm.

  “Did you try to get through my comm’s encryptions earlier?”

  “No, do you need me to? It’s easy.” No guile in that face. He’s suddenly absurdly grateful that Kai hadn’t thought to ask her.

  “Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the map.” He stands, holds out a hand that Toshiyo doesn’t notice; she’s gone back to her terminal.

  He frowns down at her. The curve of her neck looks just like Siggy, and it gives him a queasy sense of guilt he can’t quite quell. “Hey, Tosh. A bit of advice,” he says, forgetting the game for a moment. She looks up, blinks. “You can’t trust any of us.”