CHAPTER 16

The weather on Juarez 7A didn’t improve throughout the day. The cold spitting rain pinged off the hull of the Cavalier like small arms fire, and Addy considered it a great leap in her personal development that this didn’t leave her riding a constant adrenaline high.

Not that she was enjoying being cooped up inside the ship. Taylor’s edict about not going out alone meant she’d ended up walking laps around the cargo hold.

How the hell are we supposed to clear our names if we can’t go anywhere?

Addy was clearly not the only one frustrated. Brody had been banging around in the galley all morning under the cover of trying to make lunch, but the constant swearing and clattering of pans suggested that it wasn’t going well. They’d be lucky to end up with cold cheese sandwiches.

Taylor had closeted herself in the Cav’s cockpit while Tapper bustled around, checking and re-checking all of their gear in a seemingly endless loop. None of which was helping Addy’s disposition.

This is pointless. We’re just hiding. Her fingers twitched into fists at her side, and her chest tightened. If she stayed stuck inside this ship for another minute, she might just explode.

Stalking across the cargo hold, she slapped the release button for the main hatch. As it rolled open and the entry ramp descended, the cold, damp air whistled through the narrow hatchway and into her face with all the force of a wind tunnel. She zipped up her jacket, jamming her hands in her pockets as she strode down onto the permacrete.

Juarez 7A’s spaceport was a barren stretch of land, dotted with ships hooked up to umbilicals that snaked over to refueling and power stations. No individual hangars here, just a wide-open field that had been paved over at some point. No windbreaks either, as the stinging rain whipping across her face reminded her.

She tucked herself in the ship’s lee, wrapping her arms around herself to try and stay warm.

Maybe this isn’t better than staying inside. Fresh air is overrated anyway.

But she didn’t move to go back into the ship. Something about being outside clarified matters, cutting through all the bullshit.

Simply put, she felt useless. The situation they found themselves in wasn’t one she could punch or shoot her way out of, and she was painfully aware of how limited her skillset was. Fighting off Kester’s goons at the apartment, she’d been in her element. Helping exonerate Kovalic? Above her pay grade.

“Addy?” Brody’s voice echoed down the ramp. “What are you doing out there?” A sandy-haired head poked down. “I mean, besides getting soaked.”

“Just… thinking,” she said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to admit to anybody, even herself, the thought that had been needling her ever since they left Nova behind.

What if they were on the wrong side?

Ever since she’d learned that the general was Illyrican – and the former head of the Imperial Intelligence Service to boot – she’d had an uneasy feeling in her stomach about the team’s mission. The general had proved to Addy that he was more than capable of harboring an ulterior motive. Hell, he’d almost convinced her to kill Aaron Page when it had looked like the former SPT member had been responsible for the Nova Front bombings.

Kovalic had made it clear that he trusted the general, asked them to put their faith in him, but it sure didn’t look good from where she was standing. As much as she didn’t trust the system – she’d seen the way it treated way too many of the people she’d grown up with, more often than not for reasons that were at the very least mistaken, if not out-and-out prejudiced – she had to wonder if maybe they should all get hauled in.

She let out a long breath – not a sigh so much as a slow exhalation of disbelief – and shook her head. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this one, Brody.”

The pilot came the rest of the way down the ramp, pulling his own coat tight. He was still wearing those threadbare shoes, now caked with dried mud that had been flaking off around the cargo hold. “Yeah, I don’t know. Normally I’d trust Kovalic to have a plan, but…” he scratched the back of his head, “…even if he does, we’re kind of on our own out here.”

“Ugh,” said Addy. “And here, of all places, isn’t where I would choose to be. What a dump.”

Brody glanced back up into the ship, then shrugged. “Sounds like there’s at least one decent restaurant in town. Why don’t we go get some lunch?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were cooking.”

He linked his arm through hers jovially. “You know, it’s probably best we don’t give that any further thought.”

“That good, huh?”

“I’ll clean it up when I get back.”

With a laugh, Addy gave up. Brody’s charm could be buoyant at times. “So where’s this place? And I thought we weren’t supposed to go into the settlement?”

“All the commander said was don’t go in alone. Besides, it’s like a five-minute walk. What could possibly go wrong?”

“You just had to say it, huh.”

With a roll of his eyes, Brody ducked out from under the ship, squinting into the hard-driving rain. “Come on, already.”

Even a five-minute walk proved unpleasant under the current conditions, so by the time they found their way along what passed for the mining town’s central thoroughfare and then down a side street, they were soaked and considerably worse for wear.

The establishment to which Brody led them was indistinguishable from the rest of the prefab structures: two low-slung stories, same quickcrete exterior covered in mud and grunge. The only concession to its purpose was a faded sign in the window that said “Open”.

Addy eyed it dubiously. “You’re sure about this?”

“I’m told it’s good,” said Brody. “Plus, it has the added benefit of being indoors, where it’s unlikely to be raining.”

It was impossible to argue the point, so when he pulled the door open for her, she stepped inside.

A bell tinkled over her head and a blast of warm air from an overhead heater wrapped her in a fluffy bubble that let her close her and eyes and pretend, just for a moment, that she was sitting on the beach. Friendly chatter echoed throughout the space, interspersed with a clatter of utensils against plates, but all of it came to a sudden stop as they entered.

Addy’s eyes cracked open to find the entire room, maybe twenty-five patrons and another half-dozen staff, staring at the two of them.

“Uhhhh, hi,” she said. “You all still open for lunch?”

The silence continued a beat longer, until one of the waitstaff – short, plump, with a name tag that said Flynn and specified they/them pronouns – waved her towards a lone vacant table. “Take a seat, honey. I’ll be right with you.”

Conversational chatter picked up again as Addy and Brody sat down at the table. It was a bit wobbly, despite having been shimmed with several folded up pieces of cardboard, and the silverware was 3D-printed, but none of that mattered because the smell wafting out from the kitchen at the back was enough to set Addy’s stomach rumbling.

Flynn reappeared, bearing a carafe of coffee, the aroma of which was likewise far more appealing than the likes of what the Cavalier had on offer. They poured two mugs and then doled out a pair of flimsies that looked like they had been printed out this morning.

There was nothing elegant about the menus: just a list of the dozen dishes on offer. Pancakes, waffles, French toast, eggs for the breakfast crowd, and then a few different sandwiches for those with more of a lunch bent.

“A reuben?” said Brody, looking up, his expression dubious. “You get good sauerkraut all the way out here?”

“Sure do. Make it ourselves,” said Flynn.

“I could barely find frozen sausages that weren’t expired!”

The server shrugged and grinned. “We’ve got our ways. Speaking of which, I hear you do a bit of shipping. Might be some business for you.”

Addy glanced up at Brody. He’d mentioned the cover that he’d come up with on the fly, and it seemed news traveled fast in the mining settlement, though that wasn’t exactly surprising given the small size.

“Uh, that’s right,” said Brody, brushing a lock of sandy hair out of his eyes. “Well, we’re always on the lookout for new business opportunities, isn’t that right, Reggie?”

It took Addy a moment to remember her cover identity, a fact she tried to conceal with a hard look at Brody that could be interpreted as something more recriminating. “That’s true,” she said slowly. “Maybe let’s see how the food is first.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Brody. “Oh well, let’s give that reuben a whirl then.”

He ordered a side of fries as well, while Addy went for the turkey club that had been calling to her. Flynn flashed them both another smile, collected the flimsies, and disappeared into the kitchen.

As they waited for their food, Addy let her gaze drift around the room. The rest of the clientele were clearly locals; she didn’t imagine there were too many offworld visitors dropping in to Juarez 7A – the tourist scene wasn’t much to write home about. All had mud-caked shoes like Brody’s, though most of them were better equipped, with rain covers or ponchos thrown over the back of their chairs. Conversation was at a low buzz, though punctuated occasionally with short, barked laughs or wet-sounding coughs.

Feels like the kind of place where you perpetually have a cold.

She opened her mouth to turn back to Brody when there was another jingle from the bell at the entrance and a newcomer stepped in. Tall, thin, with glittering eyes beneath a hood. Rain sloughed off as they threw it back, revealing a brown, hawk-nosed face that had seen its fair share of punch-ups and maybe worse.

Across from her, she sensed more than saw Brody freeze.

He wasn’t the only one, either. The rest of the room had gone quiet once again, though not with unfamiliarity this time – on the contrary, it seemed clear they knew him too well.

Flynn bustled through the crowd, greeting the man with the same smile they’d offered the other customers. “Morning, chief. Your usual?”

The man tipped his head to one side in acknowledgment, even as his eyes took in the rest of the room, before finally alighting on Addy and Brody with substantial, perhaps even unhealthy, interest.

Oh, I do not like this. Taylor’s concerns about going into town suddenly felt all too well-founded, and Addy was conspicuously aware of the holstered KO gun that she’d been keeping tucked in the small of her back since they’d landed.

Slowly, the man walked over to their table, peeling off his black gloves, until he towered above them, his shadow blocking out the overhead light.

“Afternoon,” he said, his voice a throaty rasp. “I’m Security Chief Patel.”

Brody swallowed and nodded. “Hello. What can we do for you?”

Patel slapped his gloves on the table with a wet, ringing smack, then smiled. Unpleasantly. “I’m afraid I need to take a look at your docking permits.”

“Permits?” Brody echoed.

“Permits,” said the man again, enunciating as if Brody were speaking a different language. “You are the owners of the ship on pad Delta-3, correct?”

“Uh, yes. That’s us. But we filed all the necessary paperwork with the dockmaster last night. So you should probably take it up with him.”

Patel’s lip twitched. “I’m taking it up with you.” Almost too casually, he pushed his coat aside, draping his hand over the weapon at his hip.

Slug-thrower, Addy’s brain identified it instantly. Rakunas GL-17. An older make, but a reliable one. You’d need special papers to carry one anywhere inside the Commonwealth, even for law enforcement or military.

Juarez 7A didn’t seem to hold to the same standards.

“I’m going to need to ask the two of you to come with me,” said Patel. “We’ll sort this out down at the security office.”

Shit. Best case scenario, Patel was bent and looking for his own cut on top of what they’d paid the dockmaster. Addy had only brought a few credit chips from the ship, but there were plenty more onboard, so if he was just looking for a payday, they could handle it.

But a knot in her gut reminded her that the best-case scenario was not the way their luck had been going of late.

“We were just waiting for our lunch. I don’t suppose we could come down right after?” said Brody, a note of hope injected into his voice.

“Your lunch can wait,” said the security chief, stepping back and gesturing. “After you.”

“But my reuben,” said the pilot mournfully.

Flynn appeared and patted Brody on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, hon, I’ll pack it up for you.” They bustled off and returned in a moment with a couple foil-wrapped slabs, which they popped into a paper bag, along with a packet of fries. The smell drifted to Addy’s nose, and she regretted not backing up Brody on waiting for their food.

Addy reached into her pocket and saw Patel tense, his hand tightening on the butt of his Rakunas, but he was savvy enough to realize that she wasn’t reaching for a weapon. She tossed a handful of credit chips onto the table. “Sorry we can’t stay.”

With that, she rose, making sure to keep her hands well clear of anything that might give Patel an excuse. The adrenaline was ramping up, but she’d managed to keep it at bay so far. “After you.”

“Oh no, I insist,” said Patel, sweeping out of the way.

There didn’t seem to be any other option, so she let Patel usher her and Brody back out into the gloomy rainy day, and direct them down the street in the opposite direction from the spaceport. Great. Just great.

She was starting to wish she’d just stayed in the ship.