by F. T. Lukens
“Cheap and fast doesn’t mean quality.”
The other guy rocked back on his heels. “He has a five-star rating, and the chatter is good. I’ve heard no complaints.” He dropped his voice and leaned in, and Darby shuffled closer. “Rumor is he has some special sense of what needs fixing.”
Darby bit back her sigh and rubbed a hand over her face. To the stars, laying low was not Ren’s strong suit. No wonder Asher hovered like he did.
“Really? Like a technopath?”
“Maybe.”
“Huh. You know there was one that escaped Perilous Space about a year ago. My cousin was on one of the drifts they attacked.” He craned his neck to glimpse the counter.
“I heard it was two of them and they fought each other.”
“For real?”
Another person tried to join the line and Darby shot them a glare so sharp they backed away. She crossed her arms as the group shuffled forward.
“True. But I also heard he’s a duster. How would a duster get so good as a mech if he’s not some kind of technopath?”
“Good point. Has anyone reported him? Wouldn’t the Corps be interested?”
Darby shook her head. Oh, little did this spacer know. Time to step in though, to keep the conversation from getting out of hand. Time for an interruption. She knocked her elbow into the spacer’s side. “You know his partner is ex-Corps, right?” He stiffened as Darby forcibly inserted herself into their conversation. His eyes narrowed, he looked down at her. “Do you think a Phoenix and a Host would willingly run a business together?”
They exchanged a glance. “Who are you?”
“Loyal customer,” she said, flashing a wide smile. “I appreciate good work. Anyway, if there was anything to be reported, his partner would’ve done it a long time ago.”
Untruth. Asher held a grudge against the Corps a parsec long, not to mention that he would protect Ren to his dying day, but they didn’t need to know. Fact manipulation was another one of her specialties.
“I guess so.”
“I know so. I’ve been coming to this shop for a year now, because my boss won’t deal with anyone else.”
“See?” his friend said, pointing to the counter. “I told you this place was the best.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Oh yeah,” Darby cut him off, “totally the best. Oh, man,” she said, tilting her chin to the board above them, “the Comets lost. Robbed again I’m sure.”
“What? Already?”
“Aw, dust. I had credits on that game.”
“Man, they never should’ve fired their coach last year.”
Redirection was a tried and true method. And with one tiny nudge, they were off on a tangent about the local drift’s spaceball team and not talking about Ren having special powers. Her stomach unclenched as the line moved forward, and she dropped her crossed arms. She did ward off another person who wanted to join the line by shaking her head and pointing to drift time.
When she made it to the counter, she was officially late. So were Ren and Asher.
“Darby!” Ren smiled as he beckoned her into their apartment. He set the forcefield around the outside of the shop, then followed her inside the adjoining living space. He looked good, better than when she’d first met him, even though he was still a rail. The shadows under his eyes had cleared. His cheeks were filled out. He stood taller and he’d lost that hunted look he had the first few months after they’d moved to the drift.
“We’re late.”
“I know,” he said, shrugging into a jacket, Asher’s jacket if she remembered correctly. “I know.”
“Also, you need to charge more.” She said, leaning on the wall. “The talk in your line is that you’re too cheap and too fast. It makes people suspicious.”
Ren crinkled his nose just as Asher joined the conversation.
“Thank you,” Asher said. “I’ve been saying that for a year.” He came down the stairs from their bedroom while buttoning a shirt that she’d never seen him wear. While Ren had remained thin, Asher had bulked up considerably in the time she’d known him. His shoulders were broad, and the shirt barely contained his biceps. She knew he went for runs around the drift in the early morning and when he couldn’t sleep. He must also work out in the heavy grav chamber too. Asher wound a scarf around his neck, obviously something Pen had made.
Ren pushed his dark hair off his forehead. “I don’t want to lose customers.”
“Let’s talk about this on our way.” Asher placed a hand on the small of Ren’s back, guiding him out of the apartment. Ren’s eyes flashed as he set the electronic lock. “We’re already late.”
“You won’t lose customers,” Darby said, falling in step beside them as they walked briskly. “Not the ones that matter anyway.”
“She’s right, you know.”
The corner of Ren’s mouth ticked up. “When did you two become friends?”
“We’re not.” Darby flashed Asher a grin. “We’re just mutually invested in your well-being and we’re right.”
“What did you hear in the line?” Asher asked, amusement vanishing. “Anything we should worry about?” His shoulders tensed. Ren’s mouth went flat. Both were on alert in an instant—a symptom of their past, even after a year. She wondered if it would ever leave them, that quick lurch to fear at the smallest provocation. She doubted it, but she’d do her best to ease it when she could.
“I took care of it.” Darby tugged on her hat. “Just charge more and slow down. And maybe have Asher wear some Phoenix memorabilia every now and then.”
They both gave her a confused look, but she didn’t elaborate. She tipped her head back, shoved her hands in her pockets, and enjoyed their playful bickering as they walked.
They were thirty-five minutes late when they ambled into the restaurant and were guided to the back room. Once they entered, the group at the long table erupted.
“Okay, who had thirty-six minutes and thirty seconds late?” Lucas called, checking a timer. “I think that was you Ollie.”
Ollie leaned back in his chair. “Excellent. I do enjoy a free meal.”
“Did you bet on how late we’d be?” Ren asked, feigning insult.
“It’s Ren’s fault,” Darby said, accepting a hug from Pen and a head pat from Lucas. She settled in the chair next to Ollie, who nudged a plate of something fried in her direction. She snagged one and popped it in her mouth.
Brushing her long blond braid over her shoulder, Rowan propped her elbows on the table. “And why are you late this time, brother? More…” She coughed lightly. “…recreational activities?”
Blushing brilliant red, Asher jabbed a finger at his sister. “No. It wasn’t like that. Ren wouldn’t close the shop.”
“I had customers!”
“He did have customers,” Darby said, reaching across Ollie’s arm to grab the pitcher of beer. “Though Ash was buttoning his shirt when I walked in.”
The glare Asher shot her was truly murderous, and Darby cackled as the rest of the group dissolved into laughter.
“Glad to see you, Darby,” Rowan called from the head of the table. “I hope you’re keeping yourself out of trouble.”
Darby gave a sloppy salute and winked. “Of course, Captain. Squeaky clean nowadays.”
Rowan’s lips twitched. “I highly doubt that but I’m happy you joined us.”
“Happy to be invited, Captain.” The sincerity in her own tone surprised her, but whatever, she was among friends.
“Always,” Rowan said, with a sharp nod. “Now, to business.”
The group lingered over dinner for hours, eating and drinking, laughing at each other, and telling jokes and stories. Darby immersed herself in it, drank too much beer, ate too much food, and even allowed Lucas to convince her to try a syrupy dessert that clung to her teeth. Once the bill was paid,
they meandered out as a group, then broke off to their various locations. Darby knocked hard into Asher’s arm and gave Ren’s forearm a squeeze as she headed to her own space.
“Night, Darbs,” Ren said, smiling, cheeks flushed, Asher’s hand laced in his. “Don’t stay away too long.”
“See you soon,” she said with a wave over her shoulder. She planned to drag him to lunch later in the week after she’d researched the other mechs on the drift, and together they’d readjust his prices. She’d rather have rumblings over higher costs than about special powers.
Steps light, Darby turned the corner toward her own small apartment. Yeah, she was a speck of cosmic dust, but a lucky one that had found a cluster of like-minded particles to cling to. They’d coalesced into a group that pulsed as warm as a star, and she’d do her part to keep them all safe, especially the specks that tended to shine too brightly. That was her job, and she’d keep doing it until her inevitable disintegration. Until then, she was stardust.
Character Design: Ren
Character Design: Asher
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