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Atom planted himself atop the lowered ramp to the cargo hold, arms crossed as he glowered out at the teeming masses of the Oligump spaceport. Sweat stood out on his forehead and matted his hair in damp ringlets.
Oligump, freckle on the big knuckle of the middle finger of the hand-shaped Heinlein galaxy, rose like a steaming pile of space vomit that threatened to be swallowed by the surrounding jungles. The city, little more than a spaceport in constant motion, provided the empire a tenuous hold on the longest finger of space strung systems this side of the galaxy.
Shimmering heat rose off the black plasteel mats thrown down to combat the industrious growth of the jungle world. Atom hated Oligump. It either rained or steamed. Moisture existed in a constant state of motion.
Parked on the outskirts of the poorer landing pads, the One Way Ticket glistened in the morning light.
“Hellhole,” Atom muttered.
“If you detest this planet so much, why insist on stopping here?” Kozue asked.
“Trade,” Atom shrugged. “For now.”
“That I can understand,” Kozue sounded relieved. “Oligump is the leading exporter of deiton lumber. I calculate we could load eighty-thousand board feet at half ko per foot, leaving us five thousand for fuel, repair, and resupply.”
Atom calculated in his head. “And the other five?”
“Kozue always tucked a tenth away for emergency.”
Atom nodded, clenching his jaw at the painful memory.
“What can we sell for and where?” he asked around the lump in his throat
“I would recommend either Masai at a quarter profit or Rommel at a half.”
“Good, find me a dealer looking to move merch at half,” Atom looked over the crowded streets once more. “I’ll do the rest.”
He turned and stalked back into the bowels of his vessel. Behind him the cargo ramp closed under Kozue’s order, sealing out the humidity. Atom shivered as a blast of cool recycled air hit him.
“Go,” he called out as he mounted the stairs.
Margo appeared, holding onto the doorway above.
“We’re going out. You ready?”
In reply the little girl launched herself down the stairs, trusting her father to catch her. Laughter rang out as Atom caught and swung her around to settle on his back.
“Careful girl,” he smiled over his shoulder. “Soon you’ll be too big for that.”
He set about preparing for their excursion, double checking the rail pistol at his hip and tightening his old leather boots. Lastly, he clipped Margo into a modified harness, high up on his back where she peeked over his shoulders as he moved around the cockpit to check their surroundings and security clearances.
“Koze, did you track down a dealer?”
“Yes, Atom. I have scheduled a meeting with a trader known as Big Jub who operates out of Wood Bottom, 3.26 kilometers from our landing pad.”
“Couldn’t you find one closer?”
“Yes, but not at a comparable price,” Kozue sounded distracted for an AI, but Atom trusted her programming. “His shop is slightly outside the city center, but the closer to the center, the higher the price per foot.”
“Fair enough, load his position in my tab and I’ll find it,” Atom paused at the door to the bridge and looked back. “I may take a detour. Did you line up a specific time?”
“No, I informed him you had business in town and would arrive prior to noon.”
“Thanks, I’ll stick to that.”
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Atom wandered the alleys of the shantytown sprawling over the land between the mansions of the wealthy merchants at the city center and the square miles of landing pads that fought the jungle at the city borders. His mind trailed along. Distantly he pondered and wandered over his situation, his position in life and the universe.
A laugh from Margo brought him back.
Atom stopped and looked back at her. She perched in her harness, staring at a boy of ten or eleven sitting in a high, barred window making faces at her. The boy crossed his eyes and blew out his cheeks, inciting a howl of toddler belly laughter.
The giggles contrapuntal to each laugh proved infective enough to bring a smile to Atom’s usually stern face.
“Boy, I’m looking for two things: a mech to fix a faulty hydro-converter and a haunt to get some food that isn’t shipbound.”
“Byron,” the boy’s hard stare froze Atom.
“Pardon?”
“Name’s Byron, not boy.”
“Byron then,” Atom nodded. “Could you direct me to either or both of my needs?”
“Sure, boss.”
“Atom.”
Byron looked down from his window perch with interest. “Come again?”
“It’s my name,” Atom replied. “I’m no man’s boss.”
“Well, Atom,” a wide grin split Byron’s walnut colored face. “I aim to sell you both. Jog ‘round front.”
Atom looked up and down the narrow alley until he found an even tighter gap plunging between the buildings. Unclipping Margo and tucking his shoulders, he managed to squeeze through the crack and popped out onto what passed for a major thoroughfare in the shantytown.
The front of the building turned out to be completely open to a wide machine shop and Byron stood waiting. When he caught sight of them he waved them over with a smile.
“This ‘ere’s the best mecher in East Gump,” he said with the flair of a born salesman. “An’ By’s the best a the best. I guarantee I’ll fix your prob in under an hour.”
“That a fact?” Atom raised an eyebrow.
“Work’s free if’n I ain’t got it fixed in time. All you need is signin’ me out at the deck and pay me fee.”
“Shop own you?”
“Yup,” Byron grinned. “Only ‘til I turn eighteen though. Five spins ‘til I be free, darl.
“Sign me out, an’ I’ll grab me kit,” he yelled as he disappeared back into the shop.
Atom sauntered over to the desk at the front of the open shop. Plopping Margo down to sit on the edge, he leaned on the pitted metal and waited, annoyed at the sweat trickling down his back and the absence of the shopkeep. But with stoic resilience he forced the discomfort to the back of his mind. The vacant chair proved a different story, and Atom tapped at a red button, igniting a calliope of electronic chimes in the back of the office.
Looking around the shop, Atom noted a dozen children of various ages toiling at a series of mechanic-based jobs, from repairing an engine detached from a small freighter to operating a series of industrial presses.
“You can take yer finger off the bell,” a stout man yelled as he waddled from the air conditioned office at the back of the shop.
Atom stared at him for a moment longer than necessary before allowing the off-key music to die away. As the man approached, Atom stood up straight.
“What can I do for you?” the man huffed as he looked up at Atom.
“Byron tells me he can fix a faulty hydro-converter.”
“That he can,” the man scowled. “That boy’s my best mech. I hate sending him out. One of these days I know he ain’t coming back.”
“What’s to stop him?”
“I bought his family’s debt,” the man shrugged as he pulled up contracts on the screen built into the countertop. “Five thou they owed. It was either indenture Byron or lose their land.”
“And they sold their child?”
“Youngest of seven,” the man scratched at his unshaven jowls with a grimace. “They planned on paying off their debt with the next harvest, but they couldn’t quite make it. I’d guess they’ll be fine eventually, but it was better to sell him off than starve and turn to day laboring.”
“Is he really your best,” Atom gauged the man’s reply.
Without hesitation the shopkeep replied. “Quickest learner I’ve ever had. I’ve some indentures who barely have the smarts to toss scrap in the smelter. But Byron’s got the touch. He has the mech intuition.”
“I’ll buy his remaining years from you,” Atom rapped his knuckles on the counter. “ko. Today.”
The man’s jaw dropped. “But you ain’t even seen him work.”
“Then you’re lying about his skill?”
“No, no, no,” the man stammered. “But you’d be buying on spec.”
“What do you think, Go?”
Margo smiled and pulled at her father’s ear.
“Do we have a deal?”
“Five thou,” the man spat out.
“Twenty-five.”
“Four.”
“Three-five and today’s parts,” Atom slapped the counter.
“Done,” the shopkeep matched Atom’s slap. He pulled up Byron’s sale contract on the countertop holo-board and touched his thumb to the corner. Spinning the digital contract, he let Atom scan the contents. As he read, Atom pulled a metal ko from his pocket. Keying in the amount he locked it with his DNA print and slid it across the countertop. Then he applied his thumb to the corner beside the shopkeep’s.
“We good?” Atom asked.
“Firm,” the shopkeep slid the coin into his till and nodded as the amount showed up in his account.
As they each slapped the contract once more to seal the deal, Byron appeared from the depths of the shop with his pack.
“Ay, boy, that pack ain’t yours no more,” the shopkeep said as he closed down the countertop.
Startled, Byron looked back and forth between the pair of adults like a rabbit.
“Say again?” he asked.
“This boke just bought out your contract. You don’t belong to me no more.”
“Byron, I still need that hydro-processor fixed,” Atom nodded as he turned away from the desk. “We can discuss the details over some food. I haven’t eaten yet today, and you promised me a none to flossy haunt.”
––––––––
Byron packed food into his face without time for a word. Atom, on the other hand, picked at his plate with a reserved air. Saving conversation for the conclusion of the meal, they ate in silence.
“So what’s the line, darl?” Byron asked as he pushed his empty plate away and settled back into his seat.
Atom took his time answering. He plucked a local grape from a small bunch on his plate and rolled it between his fingers as he looked out over the broad, sluggish river bisecting the seething city.
“Came into possession of my ship recently and I aim to hire a mech,” Atom scanned the crowded café, his eyes never resting. “Whether that’s you or not is really up to you.”
“So this is a job offer? How ya know I’m any good?” he asked in a lilted accent.
“You said so yourself,” Atom smiled and handed the grape to Margo. With a delighted grin she sucked it into her mouth and popped it.
“I coulda been spinnin’ you,” Byron looked nervous. “You know, sales pitch.”
“Did you?” Atom leaned back in his chair and folded his hands beneath his chin.
“Did I spin a tale?”
“Yes.”
Byron hesitated. “No, I’m the top a me shop. Or I was ‘til you bought me out.”
“I know,” Atom rolled a thin pancake with an assortment of fruit and dipped it in a light frothy cream. “I do my research. No sense in jumping into anything without knowing what it is.”
He arched his eyebrows and stared at Byron a moment before taking a bite.
“Come on,” Atom abandoned the pancake and tossed a chit down to cover the meal. Snapping Margo into her harness he threaded his way from the crowded restaurant with Byron on his heels.
“Where we headed?” Byron asked.
“I’ll show you what needs doing and leave you to it.”
Atom plunged into the heavy traffic on the street, trusting Byron to keep up as he plowed ahead. Without a word he strode, street by street, through the masses and back to the lonely pad where the One Way Ticket waited.
As they walked through the gate to the landing pad Byron whistled. “She ain’t no looker, but I know right up she’s got the guts,” he walked to the side to take a look lengthwise at the ship’s flank. “Condor class transport.”
Atom nodded.
“Tri-burn Vulcan full spectrum engines, not a fancy, but durable. She ain’t nothin’ special, but she won’t let you down. What’s her crew outfit?”
“Four to six, but I can solo her,” Atom turned back at the foot of the cargo ramp. “She fits my need. The Ticket won’t draw eyes, but she’ll carry what I need from here to there and back again without giving me grief.”
“So what do you need me for?”
“Even the toughest ship in the black needs love to keep her floating,” Atom started up the ramp. “I’ll give you a quick tour and show you what I need done. After you look her over I’ll give you some time to think on an answer. I need a full-time mech and you’re top ten in Oligump. You’ve got nothing tying you down.”
“Oi, I’ve got family,” Byron snapped.
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have seen them for years anyhow. How’s this, you fix the hydro-processor and then you go talk it over with them. I’ve a couple pieces of business in the city, but I should have them tied up before dawn tomorrow. If you’re on the ship before we burn, the job is yours.”
“Deal,” Byron frowned. “Now, let’s take a looksee.”
“Well, here’s the hold,” Atom spread his arms wide. “Twenty thousand yards.
“Not much to see, but back this way will be your territory,” he stepped through a side hatch and headed towards the rear of the ship. “First we’ve got six passenger suites on each side, really just narrow bunk rooms with a closet and a pot.
“And then back here is the workshop,” Atom rounded a corner and the lights flickered on as he stepped through the hatch. “It’s right behind the hold and you’ll have access through the double blast doors, but I keep them closed most often so you don’t get wind blowing drift around.”
Byron’s mouth dropped open as he looked over the fully stocked workshop.
“I guess the last mech this ship had really knew his stuff,” Atom laughed as he leaned against one of the work tables. “Or he just liked collecting tools. Any way about it, I think there’s enough here to keep this ship flying the black ‘til we die.”
“You’re spot, darl,” Byron mumbled. With wide eyes he surveyed the workshop, running his hands over the polished tables, three metal and one wooden. “This is what heaven must look like.”
“Back here’s the power plant,” Atom wandered, allowing Byron time to run a quick inventory of the tools hanging from brackets on every wall and ceiling joist.
“Blemoth 300-Pellet,” Byron nodded. “Not the flossiest plant, but she’s durable. I could play and mod it some. She’ll run long past you and I. Or I could grade ‘er up sometime if you ever have the ko.”
Atom stood with arms crossed, knowing the siren song the ship sang to Byron. He watched the slow rotation of the core as it cycled in a manner reminiscent of an old steam engine. Despite the similarities the power plant spun silently in its vertical well without any of the dingy dirt of her predecessors.
“Hydro processor is....”
“Back here,” Byron finished Atom’s sentence as he ducked behind the gyrating engine to look over the finicky equipment. “Give me a tick.
“Yer, she’s mucked her filter right about. It’s causing pressure flux,” Byron poked his head out with a scowl. “That roughin’ can toss yer whole system for a flutter.
“Easy fix, though,’ he grinned up at Atom as he climbed out of the narrow hole.
“Well, take your time. I told you I have business back in town,” Atom turned to leave. “I’ll pay you to fix the hydro-processor regardless of what you choose. Go home. Say hello to your family. Decide if you want to sail with me. Job’s yours if you want it.”
Byron kept his eyes on the hypnotic spinning of the ship’s engine. Atom wondered which path the young mech would choose.
He dropped a hundred ko chit on one of the work tables. “You have the run of the workshop.”
––––––––
Atom walked back down the dusty, crowded road with Margo back in her familiar, batter suspensor-pram. A job had slipped through the cracks of the net, and he had pondered on it for the entirety of their approach to Oligump. Kozue had voted against the job as too reckless, but Atom felt an obligation in his gut.
Retracing his steps he wandered towards the river. As he drifted to the outskirts of the city, he turned scenarios over in his mind.
“What’s your plan?” Kozue whispered in his ear, startling Atom from his reverie.
Atom looked around with a startled expression.
“Kozue?” he asked in a low voice, trying to avoid drawing attention from the thinned and scattered foot traffic. Margo perked up at her mother’s name.
“I took the liberty of injecting a series of self-replicating nano-processors in the bone surrounding your ears while you slept last night,” Kozue stated. “You can hear me and speak directly to me all with the same technology, even when you are not aboard the ship.
“I did the same for Margo,” Kozue’s playful laugh filled Atom’s heart with longing. “She will always be able to hear the sound of her mother’s voice.
“So what is your plan?”
“I’m working on that,” Atom replied. “I know the target, but I need a logical point of attack.”
“Why do you direct your steps to the river?”
Atom continued to walk with the dwindling pedestrians, but he rubbed at his stubbled face with a grumble.
“First I need to find this boke, then the river might just come in play.”
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Margo splashed in the shallows. With giddy joy she pranced around, kicking up water and laughing as she skipped and galloped, pretending to be an Alyssian water horse.
“No,” snapped Atom. “This is not a game. You must go deeper.”
Margo froze. Her face grew stern. Then with a determined set to her childish jaw she stepped out into the deeper waters. Parting thick, sluggish algae-fields with her hands she waded into the water until it lapped at her chin. With a final glance back to her father she took the final step and slipped beneath the surface.
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A short time later a well dressed man walked along the narrow river road with scented oil adorning his curls and fine silks defying the sticky humidity. He strolled alone, confident in his name and the razor edged rapier at his waist.
In an age of space travel, energy blasters, and AI the man proved an anomaly.
The age of blades lay eons in the past on the planet of humanity’s birth, but for some reason the tradition carried on with this man.
Jauntily he pranced along on the toes of his heeled boots with one hand on the hilt of his ornate sword and the other cocked just below his chin with a crumpled hanky sporting the scent of a woman. Relishing the moment, he sniffed at the handkerchief.
“Help me, sir,” Atom cried as the man approached. “Me dot, she were playin’ in them shallows and fell in tops her crown.”
“Why do you not wade after her?” disdain laced the words.
“I’s canna swim, master,” Atom kowtowed, throwing himself at the mercy of the gentleman. “I canna lose ‘er too. ‘er ma’s only a few turns passed ‘erself. Go’s the only kin I got left this side a the black.”
For a moment the man hesitated, looking out at the girl as she thrashed in hysteria, just managing to keep her head above water.
“I do this for the sake of the child,” said the man as he shed his heavy outer garments and sword belt. “Keep these free of the mud, porter.”
Kicking off his shoes he dove into the water and with a flurry of powerful strokes drove himself through the turgid current toward the foundering child. Margo continued to splash and sputter in a frenzied panic.
“Hold, dear child,” the man lifted his head to locate Margo.
At that moment the water surged and a ponderous reptilian head broke the surface. The man’s shriek cut short as the jaws closed over his leg and dragged him down into the murky depths of the river.
Atom stood staring at the swirling spot.
“You can come out now, Fiver,” he called out as he tossed the gaudy garments into the shallows.
The girl peeked from the rushes behind her father.
“Dada,” she grinned up at him.
With a smile he picked her up in one arm. He handed her the sheathed blade as he pulled a holo-projector from the forked branch of a low hanging tree.
“One obstacle removed,” he tucked the projector beneath the suspensor-pram and slung Margo up onto his shoulders. “Now we have some time before the next phase comes into play.”
“That was interestingly done,” Kozue said.
A slight smile touched the side of Atom’s face. “It’s only the beginning.”
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“Please play out the background for me,” Atom frowned at the middle-aged woman sitting across the low table from him.
“She is beauty,” the woman spoke, fusing awe and revulsion in her words. “She knows she is beauty and uses it to her advantage, spinning the lives of men around her fingers to make them dance to her tune.”
“Isn’t that the way of any beauty, man or woman?”
“No, she’s a different beast. She is more beautiful than any woman I have ever seen.”
“I’ve been to the imperial court... once,” Atom sipped at the steaming, phosphorescent blue chi with a distant look. “I even glimpsed some of the emperor’s harem. I doubt this woman could rival that beauty.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, trying to determine if Atom spoke truth. Without taking her gaze from his face she refilled his shallow chi-cup.
“I’ll not question why someone from the courts would be so far out in the Fingers, but I’ve heard enough of your reputation to ask your help.
“The head of our han is dead,” she placed the chi-pot back in a cozy and lifted her own cup. “He left behind two wives. Emerald, his first wife is with child, carrying his heir. Ariel, the second wife, has her eyes on taking control of the han for herself. She is the beauty I mentions. She knows it and abuses it.”
“Can she do that?”
“Legally, no,” the woman swirled her chi and looked down at the leaves dancing on the azure currents. “But if both Emerald and her child were to die, Ariel would be next in line to control the family.”
“So you think she’ll make a play on Emerald?”
“I don’t think, I know.”
“I’ll take a look. My fee is fifty thousand.”
Without hesitating the woman nodded and filled Atom’s cup once more.
Atom met the woman’s gaze, tossed back his steaming chi, and rose to his feet. After straightening his rumpled brown jacket he called to Margo. The girl trotted over from where she had been studying a large fish tank and took her father’s hand.
“Up,” she said with a smile as Atom lifted her and held her on his hip.
“Consider the job done,” Atom brushed a stray strand of hair from Margo’s face. “It may take a few days, but I’ll finish what I’m starting.”
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Atom stood in a protected alley just off a busy street, watching the traffic flow by. At his feet Margo pranced around, practicing her skipping as she kept a comforting hand on her father’s leg. Focused on the street, he still reached down and patted her head.
At the touch Margo stopped. Gripping his pant leg she scowled at the passing traffic, training her face to match her father’s.
Atom kept his hand on Margo’s head, but he tensed as a low slung suspensor-palanquin, flanked by four squat battle drones, parted the human tide. The drone’s metal carapaces bore the scars of a dozen battles and their experience shone through their positioning. In addition to the four synthetic guards, a fair-haired gunslinger strolled beside the palanquin’s ornate hatch with subtle vigilance.
Buried in the depths of the crowd, Atom studied the group. The gunslinger sauntered with a blend of deadly confidence and brash cockiness. Her hands hovered near the brace of pistols slung low on her hips.
As her eyes wandered the crowd Atom’s gaze snared her attention.
The gunslinger caught his stare, but by the time she snapped her eyes back, Atom had ducked down the alley with Margo close on his heels.
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Margo sat on a treeless hill beyond the outer pads of Oligump watching the occasional traveler making use of the narrow road. With childish innocence she kicked her feet at the long tufts of tough grass crowning the hill like thinning hair on an old man’s head. For a time she continued to eye the road, but after several minutes her interest waned, and she turned her attention elsewhere.
She climbed to her feet.
Blowing bubbles with pursed lips, she dropped her eyes to her feet, bare and brown, and wiggled her toes. She laughed as a soft wind blew and the grass tickled at her legs.
“Spacer popped, spacer popped, spacer popped,” she sang as she stooped to retrieve the ornate sword resting beside her prior seat.
Her eyes widened as she pulled the razor-edged rapier free from its sheath and swung it ponderously against an imaginary grass monster.
“Spacer popped,” she grunted as she beheaded a tuft.
At the foot of the hill a familiar palanquin floated by with the four armored drones wandered in intricate protective patterns. The synthetic fighters each scanned the girl and determined her threat level ranked considerably lower than anything problematic.
The gunslinger hesitated. As the group pressed forward she studied Margo.
Seeing the lean woman’s attention, Margo smiled and waved. Then, taking the sword in both hands, she swung with all her might at a clump of grass.
The gunslinger’s eyes widened as the toddler lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. Without a word she bound up the hill, leaving the palanquin to come to a halt as the four synthetics tracked the gunslinger’s path.
“I know that blade, girl,” the gunslinger growled as she approached Margo. “Where’d you come by it?”
Margo looked up with innocent eyes. The point of the sword drooped, digging into the dirt as she shrugged.
The woman crouched. Reaching out she requested the weapon with a look.
Margo pouted with reluctance as she handed the rapier over to the gunslinger. Instinctively the girl turned the blade and presented the hilt to the woman. The gunslinger hesitated, studying the girl as she reached out and took the offered blade.
Below, the synthetics monitored the interaction.
Only at the last second did their sensors detect motion in a different quadrant. Spinning as one, the bodyguards charged shields and raised their weaponized hands. Energy flared to their palms as they tracked a fleeting target. Before they fired, internal sensors scanned the target. The drones lowered their weapons as a strikestag bound from the tall grass and disappeared around the shoulder of Margo’s hill.
As they dropped their defensive stance, Atom rose from a shallow hide carved in the ditch beside the road with a brace of rail-pistols at the ready.
He fired two shots from each gun in rapid succession.
The guards collapsed to the ground, steam and smoke swirling from neat holes punched through their tough exo-armor.
Atop the hill the gunslinger spun, her attention drawn by the sharp report of Atom’s pistols. She froze, torn between the blade in her hand and the action below. Recovering her bearings, she dropped the rapier and bound down the hill. Directing her feet towards the palanquin, she watched in horror as a mud smeared Atom poked his head from behind the closed vehicle.
Atom judged her distance and returned to his task. A single shot made short work of the locking mechanism and the hatch slid open to reveal a proud woman staring at him with disdain.
“Do you know who I am?” the beauty demanded, refusing to flinch at the sight of her assailant.
“I do,” Atom raised his pistol. A single shot rang out in the valley.
Atom stepped from behind the idling palanquin, holstering one pistol and tucking the other in the back of his gun-belt. “You’re done,” Atom called to the gunslinger as she slid to a halt and drew her own pistols. “You were hired to protect her, but she’s no more. Your contract with her is void.
“Can’t protect the dead,” he rested a hand on his holstered pistol and squinted up at the gunslinger. “And the dead sure won’t pay your kip.”
Without another word he turned and walked away from the still palanquin. With a sharp whistle he drew Margo’s attention and she barreled down the hill to her father’s side.
The gunslinger stood unmoving, her guns trailing Atom’s back.
“You’re welcome to join me if you like,” Atom called over his shoulder.
For a time the gunslinger remained behind, watching as father and daughter walked into the shimmering green of the morning heat. They seemed at peace, stoic, yet peaceable.
With a tender hand Atom reached out and fixed Margo’s disheveled hair. He tucked a loose strand behind her ear. Then as they reached the border of the encroaching forest, Atom disappeared into the greenery only to emerge a moment later with the rugged suspensor-pram. Margo clambered up the side like a monkey and plopped down. Even as she climbed Atom began pushing the pram down the road toward town.
The gunslinger watched the pair disappear around the shoulder of the hill. Something in their interaction tweaked her interest, and she made her decision. She ran up to the hill and retrieved the sword and scabbard before carving a new path through the long grass to cut down the far side and catch up with Atom and Margo.
Atom walked on with an easy stride, measuring the gunslinger’s steps as she loped towards them. For a moment he wondered at her intent, but then he turned his thoughts away from the approaching woman.
He contemplated his actions, evaluating and processing each step of the job. With a grunt of contentment he scratched at his scruff before tucking a hand in his gunbelt.
“What’s the work?” the gunslinger called out as she trotted to catch up.
“Odds and ends,” Atom stopped, and let the pram idle in silence.
Margo smiled up at the gunslinger.
“I own my ship and we generally make cargo runs and passenger drops. It’s nothing fancy, but it pays and I have need of an extra gun for security,” Atom caressed his pistol. “Sometimes my cargo runs a high value. Spot’s yours ‘til you tire of it.”
“Reckon my last job’s done, so I’d say I’ve got some time on my hands,” the gunslinger flashed a cocky smile. “Name’s Shi.”
“Nippon Edonese?” Atom raised his eyebrows. “Not from these parts, I take it.”
The gunslinger shrugged.
“Four or Death?”
“Somethin’ like that,” Shi squinted down the jungle-shadowed road.
“Works for me,” Atom scratched at his face and scowled before turning back to the road. “I need to get back to the ship and see if we lined up a mech.
“Shi, meet Margo,” his scowl slipped to a fond smile. “I call her Fiver sometimes, seeing as she has two brothers and a pair of sisters somewhere out there.”
“And yer name?” Shi pulled her chin length blond hair back and tied it with a dusty bandana.
“Atom.”
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“Kozue, did Byron fix the hydro-processor?”
“Yes, he performed his paid task adequately,” Kozue purred as Atom made his way back to the docking slip. “I have run diagnostic scans and am satisfied with his work.”
“Good, where’s my mech now?”
“He is tinkering in the workshop. I believe you may have won him over with your charm.”
Atom barked a laugh, startling Shi. The gunslinger’s hand leaped to the pistol at her hip.
“Why’re you laughin’,” tension crept about her eyes.
“Just talking to my ship,” Atom held up a disarming hand. “She somehow has a sense of humor.”
“An AI with a touch of humor, that’s a might peculiar,” Shi caressed her guns, taking comfort from the cool metal. “This whole set’s just a touch bizarre. I ain’t ever had a job offer from the killer of a prior client.
“The whole of you is off kilt somehow,” she looked over and studied Atom and Margo as they walked. “Not on a bad angle, mind you. Just in a way I ain’t seen before. What’s yer story?”
“It’s mine,” Atom stated.
“Fair ‘nough.”
“You fly with me and you’re crew,” Atom kept his eyes locked on the his ship. “I won’t question your past. Once you step aboard the One Way Ticket it’s behind you and all that matters is the future, only the next job. No need to worry about where anyone comes from.”
Shi nodded.
“We agreed?” Atom stopped at the entrance to the slip.
“Agreed,” Shi reached out an open palm. “I’ve ‘nough in my past I ain’t proud of.”
Atom slapped her hand. “Welcome aboard then,” he turned back and led the way up the ramp. “Kozue’s our ship’s mind. You’ll get to know her, and she’ll look out for you.
“I have some last minute business to attend to back in the cit,” Atom looked over the empty cargo hold. “I’m expecting a shipment of lumber any time now. When it rolls in let the machines load it, just make sure they distribute it evenly. Hopefully I’m back before it arrives, but if my business keeps me, you’re in charge.”
Before Shi could reply Atom turned and strode down the ramp, pushing the pram as he flipped through plans in his mind.
Shi watched him disappear through the slip gate. She cocked an eyebrow at his brusque attitude, but turned with a shrug and surveyed the interior of the ship.
––––––––
Atom ducked into the chi-house and tucked the pram just inside the door. He scanned the scattered occupants of the establishment before winding his way to where his client sat. Dropping cross-legged to the floor he poured himself a small cup of iridescent chi and raised it to his host. In one toss he downed the steaming chi.
“I’ve completed my contract,” he studied the intricate detail carved into the tabletop.
“It’s a bittersweet victory,” the middle-aged woman bowed from her kneeling position. “Our lady has lost her child.”
“That’s not my concern, but you have my condolences.”
A sad smile creased her venerable face as she slid a cred-chip across the table. “Thank you.”
Atom bowed his head and rose in silence to gather the pram by the door. He glanced back to the woman and caught a tear on her cheek as she stared into space. Then he swept out the door and lost himself among the swirling throngs in the street.
––––––––
“Lift in ten,” Atom instructed Kozue as he pushed the pram up the ramp and observed the neatly stacked lumber lining the hold from floor to ceiling. “We’re prepped, right?”
“Firm, Atom,” Kozue replied as Atom slapped the control for the ramp and sealed the cargo hold. “You must speak with Byron. I know Shi has agreed to your terms, but the boy has yet to commit to your proposal.”
“He doesn’t need to sign anything. I’ll take his word.”
“Fluid.”
Atom lifted Margo from the pram and carried her down the narrow aisle between the stacked lumber. “Where is the boy anyway?”
“Where you’d expect to find him,” Kozue purred. “He hasn’t wandered from the shop since returning from his parent’s homestead hours ago.”
“Looks like I chose wisely,” Atom smiled at Margo. “You and I will live and die together, but if I can patch the right group together we might not have to worry about that right now.
“Go, you and I have to be ready to join the void every day, but we have to embrace every day as a fresh, delicate flower to be enjoyed. Life and death are two sides to the same blade.”
Margo stared up for a moment before wrapping her arms around her father’s neck and pressing her face against his stubbled cheek.
“I hate hearing you talk like that, but I fear it may be the only way in which my family survives this ordeal,” Kozue’s voice held a tinge of sorrow.
“It is our way,” Atom replied as he stepped from the hold. Behind him the lights dimmed like an artificial twilight. “Koze, get the engines warmed.”
“I initiated the ignition process when you boarded.”
With a smile Atom wandered into the workshop. Byron sat hunched over one of the workbenches, concentrating on a small electronic board. For a moment Atom studied the boy.
“Time’s up,” Atom said, startling Byron.
“What do ya mean, guv?”
“We’re burning in ten,” Atom dropped Margo on the far end of the workbench, allowing the girl to sit and look over the tools. “I hear you took a trip home. How did that go?”
“My parentals touched surprise,” Byron squinted up at Atom. “I en’t sure it were a good surprise, but they sure din expect me face darking their door.”
“Did you make a decision?”
“I’ll go if you’ll have me. I thought they might a made a mistake, sellin’ me off like that, but I saw someffin’ a touch different today. They sold me ‘cause they din want me. They din need me. They’ve a full house without me and they sure din expect me to ever float back.”
“They’re still kin, don’t forget that,” Atom scolded the boy. “But you control your path. You’re a man in this. What’s your decision?”
“I’ll fly with you,” Byron turned away. “Let’s see where your paff leads.”
“Heaven or hell, or somewhere in between,” a dark smile creased Atom’s face. “No telling, but we’ll walk that path to the end.
“Have you met Shi yet?” Atom took a small laser-cutter from Margo and returned the tool to its slot in the workbench without taking his attention from Byron. “Last I saw of her she was wandering through the hold.”
Byron shook his head. “I han’t been back long, and I’ve been tied to the workshop. If she’s wandering the ship, she en’t been down to say noffin’ to me.”
“Well, tag along. I should probably intro you if you’re to be shipmates.”
Atom lifted Margo off the workbench and set her on the floor. Knowing all tools sat high enough to be out of her reach, he left her behind and walked back to the hold. Lights flickered on and off as he passed. Taking the steps two at a time he climbed to the upper deck where he strolled into the all purpose rec-room. To conserve space the ship designers combined kitchen, dining, and recreation areas into the biggest single room outside the hold.
Atom wandered into the room and found Shi sitting at the table cleaning her pistols on a square oil cloth.
“Problem, boss?” she asked.
Atom shrugged.
“Nope,” he hooked a thumb in his belt and stepped to the side. “I just wanted to introduce you to Byron.
From the doorway Byron shuffled in, his head down as he focused on Margo’s toddler steps. Like a shepherd with a lone sheep he shooed the girl before him.
“Byron,” Atom drew the boy’s attention away from his self-appointed charge. “This is Shi. I brought her on for security purposes. The black’s not the safest place and most planets aren’t a whole lot safer. I’ll rest a touch easier knowing there’s another set of eyes and a steady hand on a gun to watch over the ship when I’m off working.”
Byron eyed the woman with suspicion. Shi returned the stare with her emerald gaze.
“So, what do you do?”
“Fix what needs fixin’,” Byron narrowed his eyes before relaxing and flashing a cocky, half grin.
“That include my eats?” Shi matched the grin as she leaned back in the booth and interlaced her fingers behind her head.
Leaning against the counter, Atom watched the interaction unfold.
“No’m, I’ve scrapped eats, but I ain’t never cooked for anybean, but meself.”
“Well, I’m not cookin’ for you,” Shi glanced over to Atom. “I reckon it’s every bean for themselves.”
“We’ll see,” Atom interjected, beckoning Margo as he mulled the matter. “Seems only fair that we take turns for the moment. If I bring someone on who has a culinary touch, we might change that, but seeing as none of us can cook, we can poison each other equally.”
“Who said anything about not being able to cook,” Shi demanded.
“Atom, two minutes to burn,” Kozue interrupted the conversation. “I recommend your presence on the bridge.”
––––––––
“What’s our destination?” Kozue asked as Atom sat at the yoke, lost in thought, staring into the void ahead.
The silence persisted.
“Atom,” Kozue raised her volume.
Snapping from his deliberation, Atom blinked to clear his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. On some level he expected to find Kozue standing in the doorway with a soft smile brightening her face.
The bridge, however, lay empty.
“We’ll head to the Bayerlein System,” Atom sighed. “Word on the sub-net is they have a need for lumber. I know Masai is closer, but this should let us turn a tight profit and hopefully swing by one of the outer mining planets and haul some ore on the cheap.”
“Sound,” Kozue replied.
“You want more, don’t you?” Atom said after a moment of silence.
“Yes.”
“Well, you don’t need to know.”
“Atom, I’m your AI,” Kozue said. “The more information I possess the better council I will afford you. If you insist on keeping data from me how can I complete my primary objective? How can I hope to guide you if I have gaps in my knowledge frame?”
“You’ll just have to cope, Kozue.”
“If some of your dealings are illegal I can program myself to overwrite any incriminating data should we find ourselves in a compromising situation.”
“I give you what I think you need. When I keep things off the record, they stay that way,” Atom rose to leave the bridge. “Your primary objective is to keep Margo safe. If we die together I’ll die happy, but when she’s out of my hands you will do everything in your power to preserve my line.
“Oh, and Kozue,” he paused at the door. “Be a dear, initiate burn for the Bayerlein System.”