I’d never craved a cigarette more in my life, but Sev Tech goons had confiscated my pack. Instead I bounced my leg with that antsy energy all us elba root addicts got. Myka squeezed my hand, and it was weirdly reassuring. I hated it.
“We don’t talk about my family, okay?” My voice was harsh. “Our disagreements are business. Let’s keep it at that.”
I could feel her eyes on me, but I wouldn’t look at her. Nope. Wasn’t gonna give in. Not on this. After an uncomfortable moment, her hand abandoned mine with a thumb ghosting across my knuckles.
“Agreed.”
When I looked back at her she was holding the second bun out to me without comment. I took it. My stomach was rioting.
I hated her so much.
Once I finished the morally-compromised bun, Myka announced, “I have to wash my hands.” She wiggled our handcuffed hands. “You have to come with me.”
“You can’t just brush your hands off on your skirt?”
She looked as if I’d asked her to rip her blouse open and do a shimmy. “Absolutely not.”
We still had five minutes until the train arrived. Enough time to wash hands. The bathroom was empty, the sinks along the wall the bare minimum required to meet hygiene standards. We took turns. Me first. Then her. The water was cold.
Myka watched intently as a spittle of water moistened her hands. When she spoke it was with the precision of a person who’d been practicing the words in their head.
“You’re angry that I’m not dissatisfied with my status as a contractor. The fact of the matter is that this is simply the hand that life dealt me. Even if I wanted to leave, I have no way of doing so. There are consequences for contractors who try to skip out on their debt.”
She shut off the tap and shook her hands. It was a weirdly quiet moment. “Life dealt you an abusive alcoholic father. You were then able to leave him. This is evidenced by the fact that you did leave and then were taken on by a wealthy benefactor who brought you where you are today. I don’t have that option. Is it so surprising that I’ve decided to make the most of what I have? I succeed on my own terms with the hand that life dealt me. I find this much more enjoyable than being angry at things outside my control.”
She seemed so vulnerable and genuine. Like she’d peeled off the Myka the Contractor mask and was just Myka. But why did she care what I thought about her?
“And?”
Her brow furrowed as if that weren’t the response she’d hoped for. “I’m just saying, there’s no reason for you to be angry with me simply for being happy as a contractor.”
My hands dripped onto the floor of the bathroom, joining the other puddles. I fundamentally did not understand the woman cuffed to me.
“I’m also angry because you and your boss kidnapped me and stole my design.”
Myka’s eyes widened, just a bit. Then she smiled a strange, wistful smile. Like she knew something I didn’t. All she said was: “Right. That’s fair.”
The Dumbest Thing I've Ever Done
We missed the train. Too long in the bathroom and then obstructed by a big delivery cart that decided to stop between us and the station. Trains ran every thirty minutes. That was a long time when you had two corporations looking for you.
Case in point, as I watched the train vanish, Myka clutched my elbow. “Sev Tech.” She nodded back into the crowd.
I had no clue what these Sev Tech mercs looked like, but Myka seemed to. We needed to be elsewhere, quickly.
I fought and twisted through the crowd to follow Myka as she led us further away from the expo. We couldn’t move fast with this foot traffic, and I wouldn’t place bets on us in an open street fight with trained mercs. I noticed a gaping doorway and pulled us into it.
Air conditioning punched us in the face as we entered a large gymnasium complex. The No Pull Zone. One of those zero-g recreation centers. Huge warehouses with a selection of zero-g activities and playrooms. All the rage in the Outer Core. We liked anything that made us feel more colonial.
With Sev Tech vaguely behind us, I followed Myka’s tug into the first alcove off the entrance. It was full of kids bouncing off the walls. Literally. Though the walls were padded with kids wearing helmets, it was still a big room full of children careening into each other. A bright red line on the floor marked the zero-g section.
A holo-greeter appeared as soon as we entered. One of the cheap models, too, with doll-like facial expressions. The greeter turned digital eyes to us and—after an off-putting delay—smiled, raising her eyebrows. It reminded me of some horror vid that had come out recently. Attack of the Hollow Holos.
“Welcome to the No Pull Zone’s child distraction resource. Would you like a tour of our facilities?”
Before either Myka or I could open our mouths, a real human holding a sippy cup rushed right through the holo-greeter. I’d seen a lot of mental breakdowns, and this guy was two snot bubbles away from ramming that sippy cup into his face. An orange stain decorated his shirt, and something green and viscous oozed down his leg.
“You’re the entertainment, right? You’re late.”
Myka stepped forward. “Very sorry. There was an accident on the train.”
She had that lying smile, but I went with it.
The hassled employee hurried us to a corner across from the zero-g section. This area was fully gravitied and occupied by a gaggle of bored children. “These are the ones who can’t handle zero-g,” the employee explained breathlessly. “You gotta
