Then I noticed the Bleercorp logo on the vendor’s cart. A franchisee. “Never mind. You can have mine.” I pushed the bun back at her.
She frowned with a bun in each hand. When she made a straight line for a nearby bench, I had no choice but to follow, gingerly shifting away from a puddle of unidentifiable liquid on the seat. A display to the side flashed the rail schedule. The train to Eldarm—where Halcyore’s was—left in fifteen minutes. Plenty of time.
“I’m not going to poison your food.” Myka placed one bun on the bench beside her. Hemmed in by the troubling puddle on one side and the steamed bun on the other, Myka and I squished together. Her thigh pressed against mine.
“The vendor was a Bleercorp franchisee.”
“So?”
She needed me to spell this out. “I’ll wait for an independent vendor. One who’s not attached to a corporation.”
With the grace of ancient royalty, she took a bite from the first bun. “What’s your issue with corporations anyway?”
She was asking what my beef is with the corps? She’d never struck me as dumb. “What type of question is that? Especially coming from you?”
She lowered the bun with a look of confusion. A genuine look of confusion. Or as genuine as Myka ever looked. Which was insane. Contractors had the most reason to hate corporations.
“I don’t like when people in power throw their weight around. Especially when they beat up on the little guy.”
Myka considered, weighing the accuracy of my statement. “I don’t know about ‘throwing weight around’, but you can’t pretend the corporations haven’t benefited the system. The reason we’re here on Ri is because of Cadinoff investment and colonization. Who else would transform dead planets into livable colonies?”
Typical apologist bullshit. “Yeah, and we’ve paid for it while their shareholders back in the Core make bank.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin, bringing my hand along for the ride. “That apprentice of yours. How much do you pay him? As I recall, you take advantage of small business leniencies to let underage ‘family’ work with minimal pay.”
“Please. Ryan’s better off than you are any day. You’re a contractor.”
Though I spit the word with venom, she wasn’t fazed. “I get to travel with free room and board. And I don’t stay in Sufficient Inn. I stay in The Golden Sun or Kerye Hotels. I’m treated to the finest of everything. I get paid plenty.”
“Can you walk away?”
She met my challenging gaze. “Why would I want to?”
“If Ryan decides I’m an asshole, he can just leave. I can’t stop him. I wouldn’t stop him. Can you leave if you decide you don’t want that sweet luxury anymore?”
“Once I’ve paid down the debt—”
“See, shit doesn’t matter till you can walk away.” Otherwise, she was just a happy prisoner.
She was brainwashed. Born with debt so she thought of it as normal. Never stopped to think that things could be different. Never stopped to think the whole set-up was unfair. She’d been raised with corporate values shoved down her throat until she loved it and asked for more.
“I think you’re taking this all too personally.” She said it in a matter-of-fact way.
“What does that mean?”
“I just think you’re letting some personal issues interfere with your objectivity.”
“You don’t even know anything about me.”
She cocked her head to the side, then spoke as if reciting a record:
“Elly Henderson, born Elly Blake. Profession: Engineer. Skills: Vacuu-atmo engine design. Hobbies: Watching dartball, repairing old machines, and drinking. Motivation: To be accepted to the Human Engineering Association without corporate sponsorship. Fear: Being like her father. Weakness: Her apprentice, Ryan—”
I stood and slammed my hands onto the back of the bench on either side of her, caging her between my arms. There’s a special type of anger that fires up when someone poked at your vulnerable underbelly. Myka had socked that underbelly with a fist, and now that anger was fucking flooding me. The rest of the station was gone. It was just me and Myka, this fucking pest who was…
She knew my old name, for fuck’s sake.
“You even think about doing anything to Ryan…” My words burst, shaking.
She didn’t look scared at all. She sat straight, meeting my aggression. “Fact is, I do know a lot about you, Ms. Henderson. And so I’m comfortable chalking up your issues with corporations into ‘taking things personally’. It’s hard for you to respect power when you grew up with a man who abused it—”
“Would you shut the fuck up?”
She didn’t. “It’s probably why you refuse to get a long-term partner. Honestly, a lot of your life choices are tied up in your childhood trauma. You should probably work past that in therapy.”
Her left hand dangled near my right, but her expression was smug. She knew she’d hit a sore spot, and she was glad for it, and I hated her for it. I wanted nothing more than to shut her up with force, but that would also be a fucking victory for her. I’d be giving in to my “Fear”, after all.
We must’ve been making a scene. A woman touched my shoulder. Older lady. Burn scarring on her cheek. She looked from me to Myka. “Everything okay here?”
Myka smiled as if we were having a casual chat. “We’re fine.” Her handcuffed hand grabbed mine. She looked for all the world like a woman on a pleasant date. Meantime, I was a temper-red, trembling mess lumbering over her. I was out of line. Fuck.
I retreated but kept my hand in Myka’s to hide the handcuffs. I shoved the other hand in my pocket, backtracking to the bench next to Myka.
The
