“We came from this forest, not theirs. We need to start over. I will bring back a female. She will make us whole, brother. I promise you.”
For a moment, he stays as if he’s considering it. Then he turns and vanishes among the shadows.
I scratch my head.Damn it.
After a breath, I continue into my house.I’m going to try. Whether you like it or not.
4: Tessi
Radar finally gets decent rest, but it takes me running my hand down his back, breathing slowly, and acting like there’s nothing wrong to encourage him to calm down. But I can’t get the Myndrous off my mind.
The Nebs’ method of winning is with mass numbers. And that means lots of offspring fast. But palladium, last I remember, was not a metal they commonly used in their ships.
I’m not looking forward to flying back to the market now that I know the half-breeds are nearby. But I need to offload the palladium and a few other things so I can get my credits and feed Radar a decent meal.
My first deep breath after a night’s rest always makes him lift his head. He gets down from his bench and gives me a single lick on the face before walking to the hatch and wagging his tail.
I groan when my stiff body struggles to get me upright. My hurried escape down the hillside from Carielle beat my body to shit. Muscles complain when I make them move. Scrapes sting in my skin, ones I didn’t feel yesterday.
After checking our surroundings, I let Radar out to do his business, with my gun in my hand just in case. Distant sounds of hoverengines make me look toward the valley. Patrol ships float over the land like slow flying ravens. I hope they’re looking for the Myndrous. When Radar is done and back inside, I close up the hatch, repair the necessary thruster systems for the longer journey, and get us in the air.
I need to travel back to Halfhaven in order to hand off the palladium to Aphria. As we fly over the Earth, I remember how much I prefer being up high to being on the ground. I can seeso much more. Radar seems to like it too, because he won’t stop looking out the window.
The dockyard near the market comes into view. I land us in a small slot at the far end of the complex from the gate. Radar jumps out and into the dust with me.
“Hopefully no one wants to steal a busted up pod,” I say to him. There’s no way to lock escape pods except by whoever is on the inside. As if he understands, he walks up, lifts his leg, and pees on the side of it.
“Thanks.” I roll my eyes. “You know we have to ride in that later, right?”
He trots up to me and gives me an open mouth pant like he wants congratulations.
Alright, whatever.I rest a hand on the pod one last time, in case it isn’t here when we get back, just so I can remember what it’s like to have owned something so big.
The office is a small building at the edge of town. I’ve never been inside because I’ve never owned anything flight capable. I only learned to fly thanks to my time at the military boarding school.
The door opens with a horrific squeal.
An older man sits behind the desk, watching something on a tablet. He pumps a fist to the sounds of people cheering. His expression when he sees me is one of slight disgust and concern. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I don’t tell him about the stinging cuts and throbbing bruises, the exhaustion that rattles my heart, or the grit in the toes of my worn out boots. I don’t mention the Myndrous, the fact that most other scavengers are pirates that would strip me clean and leave me for dead. Only my growling stomach betrays my silence.
“The pod in the back is mine. I’m just here for the market.”
“It’s fifteen credits an hour.”
“Is there any way I can work that off?”
He shakes his head and points to a sign on the desk. “Can’t give any poor soul a freebie. Shoddy work. Sometimes they share it around that people don’t have to pay. I can’t make exceptions. We learned our lesson the hard way.”
I collect my chip card from my chest pouch and pay for two hours, then sign the space rental form on his tablet.
“Can I give your dog a biscuit?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. I can’t trust a stranger with my dog’s health. The biscuits could be old or poisoned. I can’t make exceptions.”
He nods sadly. “What a terrible world this has become. Trust was not an issue when we were younger. Isn’t that right, Marge?”
An older woman pokes her head out of a back office, a laundry basket on her hip. “I’m lucky I found you.”
