It was prime-time for Dark Matter, the end of the sun cycle. Everyone from bounty hunters to prison workers frequented the pub, according to Dex.
Dex slipped up beside Andi to stare out the viewport. “We need to talk,” he said. His smell was the same as it had always been. Like Tenebran mountain trees, fresh and strong. Her pulse heightened at his nearness, and for a moment, things between them felt like they used to.
She took a step away, reminding her foolish heart that this man had been the one to break it.
“We don’t have time to talk, Dex,” Andi said with a sigh. “We’re landing soon.”
“That’s exactly my point,” he said. “We’re about to go into this job together, and I’d rather go in as partners, not enemies.”
Andi turned to face him, arms crossed. “You and I will always be enemies,” she said, her voice low.
“You don’t know the whole story, Androma.”
“I know enough.”
He huffed out a laugh and ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Five minutes. Just...five minutes, to let me say my piece.”
Andi opened her mouth to respond, but Gilly’s voice filled the void between them.
“Cap?” She bounded over, her hair freshly braided. “It’s almost time.”
Dex sighed. “Later,” he whispered to Andi. “We’re going to have that talk.”
Andi turned away as Gilly took her hand and hauled her back toward the waiting crew. This was the second time Dex had tried to talk to her about what had happened between them, and while she had no desire to revisit the memories of the past, she couldn’t help being curious about what he had to say.
She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about such things. They had a job to do.
Andi turned her attention back to the view of Dark Matter. She had never been here before, but she could imagine that if anyone found out a girl with her reputation was near, they would happily kill one another to turn her in for the biggest prize. She’d been on Mirabel’s wanted list for years, ever since she’d escaped Arcardius and taken up a life of pirating. Most didn’t even bother looking for her at this point, because too many had already lost their heads trying to chase her down. But here, in a den of enemies, she was walking right into their hands. One would be stupid not to take a chance at capturing her.
She tucked her hair beneath her hood, cloaking her face in shadows.
“You’ll keep a low profile,” Andi commanded her crew. “Eyes on us at all times. You smell trouble, you see anyone step out of line, you sound the alarm and get the hell out. No mistakes.” She glared sideways at Dex as the girls nodded. “No surprises.”
He crossed his tattooed arms and smiled. “I wouldn’t dare.”
He would. Oh, he would. She turned away from him, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying another word. “Lira?”
Lira sat in her pilot’s chair, hands loosely gripping the throttle as she guided them closer to the docking bay. “You don’t need to say what you’re thinking. I am fully aware of what must be done in there.”
“Good,” Andi said. “We’ll have to move quickly once we get inside. No more than forty minutes.”
“Plenty of time to raise hell,” Gilly said as she bobbed up and down on her toes. Her golden gun was sheathed on her hip beside a belt loaded with handmade Sparks. Breck had a matching one—the two girls were plenty capable of igniting chaos with them, if their past jobs were any indication.
“Then we’re all set,” Andi said. A flutter of nervous excitement winged its way through her chest. It was quickly replaced by nausea as she removed her blades. Dex sighed as he removed his gloves and slapped them down on the dash.
“If anyone messes with these while I’m gone...”
“Nobody wants your disgusting palm juice,” Gilly said.
“What the hell is palm juice?” Breck asked.
Gilly sighed. “Man sweat.”
“Where’s Alfie?” Dex asked, ignoring their comments as Lira eased back on the throttle and the ship slowed in response. “I need him to send a check-in to General Cortas before we move.”
Nobody answered.
Andi turned to Gilly, who was clearly trying to hold back a laugh.
“Why are you looking at me? I have no clue,” Gilly said.
Andi raised a brow.
Gilly smiled innocently back at her.
“I’ll just com the general myself,” Dex grumbled as he walked out the door.
The Marauder angled toward Dark Matter, slipping through the liquid darkness like a weapon ready to unleash itself upon the world.
*
Meanwhile, deep in the belly of the ship, Alfie sat alone in the locked waste bay, staring out at the stars.
“Hello, Alfie,” Memory said. “Would you like some company?”
At the sound of her voice, Alfie looked up and smiled.
Chapter Seventeen
* * *
ANDROMA
ANDI HAD BEEN in plenty of back-alley bars, unruly clubs and pleasure houses that had more going on behind closed doors than what was expected.
The atmosphere inside Dark Matter, however, had a particularly unpleasant feel.
The metal doors screeched as they slid open, unleashing a thick wave of recycled air that smelled a little too much like vomit for her taste. The room was curved, the metal walls dented at random, as if bodies had been thrown against them, leaving their mark. A rusted bartop, thick with stains of both the bodily and the brew type, stood in the center of Dark Matter. The patrons littered around it were all in different states of drunken disorder, some of them slumped haphazardly on their stools, others shouting at the four-legged, six-armed bartender for a refill.
She doubted they’d notice who she was even if she stared them straight in the face with her name tattooed on her forehead.
Andi took note of the exits as they stepped inside. One directly behind them, where they’d just entered. The other was straight across the crowd, the dimly glowing red sign half blocked by a bald man nearly triple Andi’s height. No doubt from New Veda, a planet where the inhabitants were built like giants. Years from now, Breck would likely grow to close his height, a warrior woman that none would dare cross. Andi smiled at that thought.
She hoped Breck, Gilly and Lira would get their exploding Sparks in place quickly, then move out before their plan shifted into high gear.
Across the bar were others Andi recognized from the intel they’d gathered on the ship. A table full of Lunamere guards, likely off-duty, as they guzzled pint after pint, yellow foam dripping down their unshaven beards—or in one case, a spiked jaw. She knew that they all had electric whips on their hips, ready to stun or kill at the flip of a switch, and heavy electric gauntlets to match.
And eyes constantly on the lookout for someone to toss behind bars.