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Defending Mars
Captives of a Red Planet – 09 – Who told you to pick on my rig?

Captives of a Red Planet – 09 – Who told you to pick on my rig?

The girl had been directed at his rig?

Now it made sense. He’d pissed off someone in the CU enough that they planted this runaway on him in the hopes of... in the hopes of what? Was there an alert out? No their couldn’t be. If he’d pulled this on someone, they wouldn’t find out about a stowaway 3 hours into the red. He’d have been stopped at the security wall and in custody for abduction of a colonist. No, there was something different going on here.

But what?

Gurminder let out a breath.

“Well, newer, who was it?” he asked. “Who told you to pick on my rig?”

She didn’t answer. Nor did she move from her corner of the compartment. Gurminder pursed his lips, took another look at her. She certainly looked scared and kind of defiant but didn’t seem like a threat. Still there was no way he could keep going business as usual with an unwanted passenger on board, especially a newlander kid who had to be in a stolen p-suit and one the authorities back at CU would likely already be searching for now. They may not have been tipped off by some brad with a grudge, but her parents would probably be wondering where she was, maybe even have tracked her to the hangar and then to his rig.

But where were they then? This just didn’t make sense.

And, damn, damn, damn! He was on a schedule Varlamov’s people had already shown they were edgy about and with good reason. Gurminder stood, pulled his arms up and grabbed at the short hair on the back of his head until the moment anxiety and conflict passed. He only had one choice, though. Late was one thing, locked up was another. He was going to piss someone off no matter what he did.

“I’m taking you back,” his mouth finally decided.

What else was he going to do? With any luck they’d take the girl and let him go without an investigation, without a detailed search, without trying to pin something on him from the get go. She’s have to tell them what she did. From the looks of her terrified expression, she’d have to crack pretty fast.

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And then his newer stowaway started shaking her head.

“Please no,” she pleaded. “You can’t take me back there. I’m not going back!”

“And how are you going to stop me?” he argued. “Come on, get out of there. Do it or I’ll close the hatch on you and lock it and you won’t see any light before it’s the MarSec police.

That at least got her moving.

The girl worked to climb out of the compartment. Gurminder stepped back and accommodated. Damn, she was definitely a true-born Earther, at least a head shorter than he was, the suit folding up around her knees and elbows, but with shoulders as wide as his. A true newer dwarf if there ever was one. She stared up at him, eyes wide, brushing back a dark hair clump that had fallen over her eyes. The girl hadn’t learned how to wash her air to keep it from picking up static dust.

“You don’t understand. They’ll lock me up, or put an ankle bracelet on me to make sure I don’t run again, I’ll be grounded!” the girl insisted. “I don’t want to go back there. CU is like a prison. This whole planet is. Can’t you just take me to the Elysium Field. I promise I won’t cause you any trouble.”

He offered her a smirk at that.

“Any more trouble,” she amended apologetically.

Gurminder leaned down and pointed a finger at her. She’d lost her fear now, didn’t flinch, and he was beginning to suspect she was accustomed to being lectured. What kind of trouble though could she possibly be in that would make her so insistent to escape the colony they’d just left? Cerberus Underground was hardly a prison. If you wanted to know what it was like on Earth, that was the place to go. They had an almost real Earther park with trees inside that complex. A lake even. What more could any newer ask for?

Gurminder shook his head.

“This isn’t a bus shorty, and you didn’t buy passage. Any MarSec inspector would accuse me of illegally transporting you at the very least if I don’t take you back right now, criminal abduction at worst,” he told her. “And I’m on a schedule. I’m not going fifty kilometers out of my way for a...”

What was a kind of word that would get through to her as her expression turned more to defiant than pleading.

“Delinquent,” he decided, must have heard that word on an Earther vid at some point. “I’m not even registered for ColCorp runs anyway, and they’re the only ones that are allows on any port field. And I sure as hell am not going to risk my commission and freedom over a drop like you.”

“I have a name,” she replied indignantly.