Chapter 2 2

It sends a wave of cold goosebumps across my arms thinking about it. Most weapons have set amounts of shots they can fire. A dozen. A few hundred if they're automatic and you're feeling strong enough to lug around that kind of firepower.

But Neron is pure, clean energy. It packs a lot of punch despite its tiny package.

"You have no idea-" the man begins to say.

But Reena and I both hold our hands up at the same time, stopping him.

"We don't want to know anything about what you're going to do with the weapon, or the Neron," I speak up.

"Less liability," Reena says.

The man nods his head, understanding, because all twenty-eight point one billion people on this planet know that what Reena and I are doing is so illegal, it would get us sent to Crion-the prison planet-for the rest of our mortal days.

"Is everything to your expectations?" Reena asks, folding her hands in front of her.

For a criminal, she sure is elegant, with her poised nose, perfect posture, and smooth, porcelain skin. Somehow her clothes are always perfectly clean, nearly as shiny as her auburn hair.

"It is," the man says. His tone is still breathy, in disbelief, and he can hardly take his eyes off the weapon and the blue Neron crystals in his hand.

"Get us paid so we can all get out of here," I say the words. I didn't really think about them, they just kind of slipped out. They gain me a look of annoyance from Reena.

"Of course," the man says, snapping out of his trance. He extends his wrist to Reena's first, transferring the credits. And then mine.

I look at the screen, and it shows the forty-nine thousand credits transfer to my account. It comes up as payment for sex.

Prostitution isn't looked upon in much of an acceptable manner, but it isn't illegal. If my account were to ever be reviewed, I have to have some kind of explanation as to why I have such large deposits periodically. I have to have a cover story.

"It's been a pleasure working with you, Mr. X," Reena says, packing up her own bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

She calls every client of ours Mr. or Ms. X. We never ask for real names, we'd never want to know.

Turning with her, we leave the man to marvel over his very expensive new toy. We both turn to the right, cutting down the side of the massive base building.

I pause for a moment, fishing a rag out of my bag. Looking at myself in the reflection of the window, I set to washing the band off my face.

There are cameras all over this planet. I'm dealing in illegal transactions on a near-weekly basis. I don't need the cameras knowing my face. So this morning, before I headed out the door, I dipped my fingers in my charcoal-grease mix, and spread it from one edge of my hair, across the bridge of my nose, under my eyes, to the other edge of my hair, masking my face.

I've told Reena she should do the same.

But she never listens to me.

"How many more orders do you expect to fulfill this lunar?" Reena asks as we start walking again. She doesn't look over at me. She keeps her eyes fixed straight forward, almost as if I'm not really here.

Typical. For a criminal, you'd think she was one of the elite space hogs.

"I have two more lined up for delivery before the end of the lunar," I say, looking around to be sure there are no ears within hearing distance. "I have another potential client who hasn't made a deposit yet."

"Keep in touch," she says as we rise up, taking the five flights of stairs before popping back out on the lower skywalk level. Without another word, she hooks to the right, immediately disappearing into the crowd.

I'm not really sure why Reena dislikes me so much. We've been working in correlation with each other for almost four lunars now, and the entire time she's been nothing but chilly and...almost suspicious of me. Maybe it's because she was born into this life of illegal activity and I didn't jump in until I was twenty-two solars. But she's remained frosty this entire time.

I grab something to eat from one of the hundreds of street vendors. The food is bland and tastes fake, because it is. Considering the entire planet of Korpillion is populated from shore to shore, there is no room to farm real food. Every bit of our food comes from off-planet, or is engineered in a lab.

But it keeps us alive. If it can keep so many others alive, I'll survive.

Not that I've ever known any different.

Checking the time, I pick up my pace, bumping into others as I dart down the skywalk. The trams zoom by, rocking everything around them. Ships drift through the sky up above. The planet is awake, and everyone is in a hurry to make it to work.

I aim for the massive building looming up ahead.

I slip into the crowd filing into the building and wait my turn to scan my handprint to clock in.

"Cutting it a little close today," a voice from behind me says.

I scan my hand, looking over my shoulder and glaring at Zayne. "Mind your own business."

"Hard to do when I know how much you need this job," he says, scanning his hand next. When it beeps, he steps beside me, and we head for the narrow door that funnels everyone into the mass of the building, ready for another day at Horne Energy.

"I keep reminding you, it's not your job to worry about me and my dad's financials." I let out an exasperated sigh as we aim for the employee locker room. Unfortunately, our lockers are located right next to each other. "Hasn't been in three lunars."

"Come on, Nova," he says, scanning his hand once more on the door of his locker, opening it. "Just because it's over doesn't mean I can just shut off a solar and a half of history."

I open my own locker and pull out the fresh jumpsuit some staff member put in there last night. I peel off my tunic and unzip my top and bottoms, stripping down to my underthings.

I thought we were past this. But Zayne still gives me a side look as I change and he slips into his own uniform.

Yeah, he's nice to look at. He keeps himself in great shape. His dark hair is on trend, and his jawline could practically cut steel. But he's not mine to stare at anymore, and I was the one to decide that.

"I won't be late tomorrow," I say, turning my back to him as I zip up the front of my black jumpsuit. I grab my fingerless gloves from the locker, and set off across the space toward the doors.

There is a front to this building. There's a grand lobby and big fancy offices. But us grunts don't ever walk through those doors. We come in through the side, and our access dives right into the heart of the building.