The Dust, Between Prime Dome and Crossroads
Planet Irkalla, Survivor’s Refuge
4452.2.18 Interstellar
Lira pushed the pace hard, and Janus kept up without complaint, only communicating when necessary. They managed to drive 270 kilometers in those first two hours. It was faster than he normally would have been comfortable driving, but his anger with his second made him more focused. That, and he wasn’t about to ask Lira to slow down.
When they stopped, Janus pulled up next to Lira but didn’t engage. He disabled his outbound communications while he sucked down water and protein mash, and he pulled up the VI his mother had made for him.
The image of Anika Invarian sitting on a nearby rock appeared. “Hello, Janus. It appears you’re out in the dust again. Want to tell me where you’re going?”
“I’m heading to Crossroads, Mom. The Trials have begun.”
His mother’s image seemed to stutter for a moment, then said, “Crossroads is a trading hub for dusters. It has a relatively low population relative to the value of the trades made there. An auspicious port of call for the beginning of a journey.”
Janus blinked in surprise. “Did you just answer me?”
His mother smiled, and the image stuttered again. “This program has the limited ability to adapt to your requests while you’re outside of a habitat’s noosphere. I added this feature to protect you and your sister without triggering the cult’s monitoring programs. They’re touchy about AIs, even limited ones.”
Janus was shocked. Artificial intelligence was one of Irkalla’s greatest taboos. It was forbidden to make a program with the capacity for human-equivalent cognition. Even limited AIs—adaptive programs designed to learn and perform a specific task to better-than-human levels, but not grow beyond that—were usually the domain of the Cult of the Survivor.
Janus had always thought that was best, for all his uncle’s hostility toward the cult. If the wayfinders wanted to muck around with dangerous tech, better that it blow up in their faces than someone else’s.
The avatar of his mother looked around as if she could actually see what was in front of them, and as Janus thought about it, he wasn’t sure how she collected information. She could certainly be tapped into his retinal implant as easily as she was tapped into his auditory ones.
“You’re in the crests,” she stated.
Janus followed her gaze and looked at the surrounding landscape. The gritty sand had formed into dunes, and some of them did indeed have crests, almost like waves. Since Irkalla had no atmosphere, and therefore no wind, there was no mechanism Janus knew of that could produce this effect.
“The formation of the crests in this region is a mystery. Early surveyors theorized that, a long time ago, this area was struck by a ferrous asteroid that was somehow polarized. The iron in the dust is drawn to that lodestone, creating the pattern and holding the crest of the wave together.”
“Huh,” Janus said. He’d been so angry, so focused on the road, that he’d almost missed the view.
“You ready, Janus?” Lira asked, her tone a little less harsh than usual.
Janus unmuted his comm. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
They had to stop early during the next leg because Janus almost lost the trailer. They were crossing an area of hard-packed dirt and rocks, still going faster than was advisable, when the warning light on the trailer’s automatic disconnect turned on.
Janus managed to stop his buggy before anything happened, but when he inspected the linkage, he could see the safety system was already engaged and only holding on by the hook.
“I told you this would happen,” Lira said. “You’re lucky it didn’t flip and throw you.”
“The whole point of the safety system is so it can’t do that,” Janus answered, resetting the system. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” Lira said, resting her hand on the buggy’s handlebar. “I thought you’d decided to give me the silent treatment the whole way.”
“I needed time to think,” Janus said, standing and turning to look at her. “I can’t just ignore you. I’m the aspirant. I’m supposed to lead you.”
Lira scoffed. “Yeah, well, that just fills me with confidence, doesn’t it?”
Janus smiled to himself and sat on the side of his buggy. She was angry, and that was fine. Maybe he should have hashed things out with her sooner, but it was also good that she was angry. Anger was a desire for change, and he could work with that. If she’d been apathetic, there would have been nothing to do but send her home. “Are you upset they didn’t make you the aspirant instead of me?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice calm.
“They should have,” she said, but she sounded far from certain. “You made one good decision, Invarian. I trained for years.”
“So did I,” Janus said, crossing his arms. “I didn’t know it, but my uncle was pushing me toward skills that would be useful for the past twelve years. He said as much.”
“That’s not the same,” Lira said.
Janus shrugged. It was a testament to the lightness and versatility of the aspirant suit that he could. “The same person who designed your training was running mine. If anything, I had direct access to a former aspirant and you didn’t.”
“That’s…” Lira trailed off, breathless, and Janus knew he’d made a mistake.
“I’m sorry, I just said something wrong,” Janus said. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t intentional.”
Lira didn’t answer for almost a full minute. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat and robotic. “My mother was an aspirant. She died.”
“I’m sorry,” Janus said. “I didn’t know, and that’s part of the problem. We don’t know each other. All I know is that you made my life hell whenever you could back in Prime Dome.”
“I apologized for that,” Lira said.
Janus crossed his arms. “Yeah, you did, and then you said that I was tainted, like my heritage and my family were some kind of disease. And I don’t want to argue that out with you right now, because I don’t know where that’s coming from and we have to focus on staying alive. Your people made me the aspirant. I need to know you’ve got my back.”
“I’ll do my job,” Lira said, her voice cold and restrained.
Janus leaned forward, hands on his knees. “You’re my political and trade advisor, Lira. Working through people’s baggage and finding compromises where everyone wins is your job. I need you to start doing it.”
There was another pause, and Janus thought he might have lost her, but Lira finally nodded. “You’re right. You’re the aspirant, and I’m going to support you. We can’t afford to be at each other’s throats.”
“Good,” Janus said, sitting back. “I need you on this, Lira. You know all kinds of things I don’t, and I value that.”
She didn’t answer, and Janus didn’t press her. They’d already taken a big first step toward solving their problems. He wasn’t sure they could find common ground on all of them. Whatever had made her hate him and his people—what was left of them, in person or in memory—might be too big a thing to overcome in twenty-five days, but he’d try.
He was going to make this work, get them through this alive, and maybe even win.
If anything, he’d do it just to prove her wrong.
***
Two lonely nights and days later, the horizon lit up with chaotically flashing green, blue, and red lights, like the first shots of a space battle in a holovid. Janus quickly called over to Lira.
“Are you seeing this?” he asked. “Should we go around it?”
“You want to dodge around an advertisement?” Lira asked. “Afraid it’ll be too persuasive?”
As they got closer and he saw what she meant, Janus immediately felt stupid. It was a billboard, like in the footage of Old Earth, lit up by glowing green lights to promote a specific bazaar in Crossroads. The ad was quickly followed by several more, all trying to convince potential customers that their hangar was the best, that their prices were the lowest, that their merchants were the most trustworthy.
He lost track of how many ads he passed, but before long he began to get overwhelmed. How big was this place anyway? How were there so many markets to choose from? How would he know which ones were the best ones?
As they continued in, he could see a long line of buggies, mono-wheels, and caravans all on a methodical journey in. The roads here were smooth and kept up nicely, with lights along the side to guide potential customers directly to the fleecing.
He was already feeling overwhelmed as they overtook several other buggies who were moving at a more leisurely pace and making their way toward the sprawling complex that spread out in front of them as far as he could see. Little lights showed just how far-reaching the place was. And for a habitat that had fewer inhabitants than Prime Dome, they sure made it seem like it was a metropolis.
As he watched the little lights approaching Crossroads from all directions, Janus decided he needed to rethink what he thought about inter-dome commerce. Janus didn’t even know this many people braved the terrain between settlements, as he’d only ever made one journey between domes before, and that was when his uncle dragged him and Callie from Prometheus Base.
“Ignore the outer domes,” Lira called over the shortwave. “It might take a while to get further in with this void-cursed traffic, but it’ll be worth it. It’s not like we’re leaving before the sun sets tonight, anyway.”
“It seems busier the further we go in,” Janus observed, looking at the strange layout of Crossroads. Now that he was closer, he could see there were dozens of domes spread out over a wide area, like separate domes. “Do people have to drive between these domes? It seems like a poor design. Why not just connect them?”
“They are connected. There are long corridors underground that connect almost every dome, with a few exceptions,” Lira responded.
“Good to know,” Janus said absentmindedly, trying to focus on the traffic ahead as he had to drive closer to the buggy in front than he was comfortable. “Thanks.”
There was a silence before Lira came back on, mild confusion in her voice. “Did I do something?”
“What do you mean?” Janus asked.
“You’re not arguing every little point. You’re actually listening.”
Janus frowned. “I always listen, and I especially listen when what you have to say is based on facts and not… you know what? Never mind. We agreed we weren’t going to fight the entire trip. It’s a poor allocation of our energy anyway. I didn’t have time to learn about all of our stops the way you did, so this is a great chance for you to show you’re more of an asset than a pain in the ass.”
Lira was quiet for a moment before responding. “And what if I don’t?”
It was pretty obvious to Janus, but if she needed him to spell it out… “If you don’t, this is a good place to find a replacement. There’s bound to be someone here who understands trade and diplomacy and knows about the other checkpoints on the route. We’re still close enough to Prime Dome you can make it back on your own.”
“Good luck with finding someone who can put up with you,” Lira said, acid dripping from her words.
“Look,” Janus said, gritting his teeth against yet another confrontation. “My goal is to win these Trials for the sake of our dome and our people. If I think I have a better chance of doing that on my own, I’m not afraid to do that.”
Suddenly an echo reverberated through his helmet, while another message scrolled across the buggy’s screen: “Park your buggy here! The safest place for you, your vehicles... and your credits!”
“Park with peace of mind, and keep your pieces of currency!”
“We’ll watch your stuff while you watch your pocketbook!”
“Void burn me, hold on,” Janus said as he tried to block the flood of signals. “How are we supposed to tell which of these to listen to?”
“None of them,” Lira said, her voice coolly confident. “I already booked us a dock. If you think you can do better, be my guest.”
***
Lira led Janus to a dome fairly close to the center of the sprawl. They parked their buggies in a large parking area that was covered by a poor excuse for a sunshield. Janus wouldn’t want to be under it during the full sun, but it would protect their buggy from all but minimal wear and tear unless there was a sun flare of some kind. The lot was full of vehicles of every kind, from buggies nearly identical to theirs to single-wheeled monocycles designed to make shorter, faster trips with light precious cargo and huge shielded crawlers that could keep rolling even in daylight. The larger vehicles could be connected together into a caravan. Some of them even had vehicle bays to repair buggies and cycles on the move.
Janus and Lira got out and stretched before shutting the vehicles down, and Janus watched Lira pull out several samples of the PrimeGro.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Let’s go talk to the owner,” Lira said.
“Should I disable the buggies, so they can’t be stolen?”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
His partner shook her head. “The people here will find a dozen ways to take from you, but no established merchant would allow goods to be stolen in their lot; their reputation is worth more to them than a few spare parts.”
Lira led them across the parking area to an airlock into the dome. Janus saw several lightly armed guards and cameras along the way, and he got the feeling they were meant to be seen. Whoever owned the place was making a show of how secure they were. The interior of the dome was as gaudy as the exterior, with displays plastering every wall with special offers, specialized stores, and entertainment for the dust-weary traveler. Everything was for sale. Here and there, the displays had either been hacked or the ads poorly sequenced as special offers cut off the previous ad. It was amazing the lengths people went to get noticed.
As they walked, Janus’s VI fed him information about Crossroads—about how it was a permanent-temporary settlement, and all its structures were designed to be able to be dismantled and moved. The original Crossroads had been west a quarter-turn around the planet, although the location hadn’t changed in two hundred years. His mother also advised him that the Crossers valued long-standing relationships over short-term profits, and it was important to be introduced. It solidified Janus’s decision to follow Lira’s lead, for now.
The lobby itself was so packed that Janus almost forget to take off his helmet before following Lira as she weaved through the crowd. She seemed to have a specific destination in mind. Janus found himself cut off when a Hunter elbowed their way past, wearing their typical gray void suit with helmet on and shatter-gun in hand. Janus gave the soldier a wide berth, as did most people, and he hurried to catch up to Lira.
She waved to a stocky man in a brightly colored, expensive soft suit.
The stranger swept her up into a hug.
As soon as the embrace relaxed, Lira turned to Janus. “Janus, this is Pasha, my contact in Crossroads.”
“Contact?” Pasha asked. “You make me sound so official!” His smile was even more cloying than his voice. “You’ve gotten so big and turned into quite a beauty. What happened to your face?”
Lira’s hand instinctually traced the bruise along her face. “Training mishap. The doctors cleared me to travel.”
Pasha shook his head, his smile returning. “Aspirant training, I suppose. That’s something to brag about!”
“Stop, Uncle Pasha! You’re making me look bad,” Lira responded, playfully pushing his shoulder. “And I know what you’re doing.”
Pasha frowned, the very model of outraged innocence. “Making small talk with an old family friend?” He leaned toward Janus, hiding his mouth with his hand in an almost comical stage whisper. “She calls me Uncle Pasha because I was two drinks away from being her father.”
Janus choked down a laugh and Lira rolled her eyes. “He was Mom’s best friend growing up. Friend, Uncle Pasha, and nothing more!” Lira said. “I’m sure that wasn’t for lack of trying. You must have gotten more persuasive since then, or you would have gone out of business.”
Pasha grinned. “An outrageous slur! I get by because of my reputation for honesty and low prices.” His voice dropped several decibels, his tone more serious, making eye contact with Janus. “An honest Crosser is hard to find, friend. I may have lied about the low prices, but I’ll save you money in the end by not shilling you broken parts and rotten goods. Might even save your life.”
“You’re as straight as a bent credit chip, Uncle Pasha,” Lira responded with a grin. “Now, come on. No more games. I’m not the little girl I used to be.”
Pasha pouted a little. “So much like your father. I don’t know what she saw in him.” He sighed. “But I’ll forgive you because the Trials are upon us. I’m sure you’re in a hurry.”
Lira nodded. “How much for docking rights? We have goods to sell. I’m willing to be generous on the commission.”
Pasha shook his head, his expression more serious, but still with a dimple in his cheek and a smile just waiting in the wings. “I would never charge you for merely docking. This is your second home and the best of the two.”
“I know the going rates, Pasha. Come on.”
Pasha chuckled. “I’m sure you do, Lira. Always so studious, never time for fun. But the rate is zero. Please, allow me to contribute to your Trials in some way.”
“Fine,” Lira said, sharing a look with Janus. “What about the commission?”
His smile widened and he rubbed his hands. “I’m glad you’re in a generous mood. Five percent is the standard rate.”
Lira scoffed. “And here it comes. Five percent? You could plate the lot in gold at those prices. Half that would still be robbery, but I’d prefer not to drive somewhere else.”
Pasha clutched his heart. “Two and a half percent? Do you want my other children to starve, Lira? I wouldn’t give that rate to my dying mother.” His face became more serious. “I did love your mother, though, and for that I’m willing to take three, but only on condition that if I find a better buyer for your cargo than you, I’m taking four and a half.”
Lira crossed her arms, then glanced at Janus. “Three and four-point-five, no docking fee, and you throw in a room for the day. A nice one, Pasha.”
The merchant smile was back, bigger and even friendlier than ever. He and Lira locked in the terms of the agreement on their wrist-comms. “Done! I just robbed you blind! I had already said I’d waive the fee, and I was planning on giving you a room anyway!”
“No you weren’t,” Lira said, although she looked less certain than before. “You’re the one who taught me to never trade on sentiment. What was it you used to say? A friend’s money spends the same as a stranger’s?”
“But family is family, little Lira,” Pasha said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “You will always have a home here. And sentimentality grows as you get older, sneaks up on you, robs you of your senses… like I robbed you in this exchange! I can’t wait to tell my friends about the most excellent profit I will be making!”
“Thanks, Uncle Pasha,” Lira said, more emotional than Janus was used to seeing her. She kissed the merchant’s forehead “We’ve got a few things we need to gather. Where’s the best place to find honest merchants like yourself who want to do a good deed for a couple of aspirants?”
Pasha let out a laugh that rumbled his belly. “Maybe in Prime Dome or Gemini. If there ever was a good man in Crossroads, he went out of business. But the closest you’ll find is in this dome, second sublevel. You’ll find everything you need there.”
The two embraced again before Janus followed Lira out of the packed lobby through a corridor that reverberated with the sounds of muffled voices and generic music. They took an elevator down to the second sublevel. More ads plastered every available space in the cab and along the walls, so much that Janus thought of them all as white noise and idly wondered if any of these ads had ever convinced anyone of anything. Lira pulled him aside just outside of an ornate door that had the word Bazaar over it in glowing neon lights.
“I need you to make an ass of yourself,” Lira said in a low voice.
“That feels uncalled for,” Janus responded.
Lira rolled her eyes. “I mean intentionally. Overpay for drinks, let everyone know you’re an aspirant, insist on only quality products, and brag that you’re really good at negotiating.”
“Drinks?” Janus asked, perking up.
“Yeah. Buy one too many and act like they’re going straight to your head. Then, say you’re looking to make a deal with only the best traders in town—price is not an object for you. You’ll be swarmed by liars and con men in minutes.”
“What’s the play here?” Janus asked. “Why would I want to deal with the bottom feeders?”
“Because that leaves the honest ones for me,” Lira said, and Janus suddenly understood.
“I’ll do my best,” Janus said.
“Just be yourself, only more so than usual,” Lira said, patting him on the shoulder.
Janus scoffed and shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered she’d made him part of her scheme or insulted that was what she thought of him.
He walked into the bazaar, and Lira followed him in.
The bright lights and clashing colors made this place look more like a nightclub than a market. Stalls lined the walls with merchants hawking wares, but there were just as many bars set up with a few ramshackle stools around them, and the beer was pouring.
“Everything is negotiable,” Lira said as they made their way through the crowds toward the interior of the market. “They’ll try to charge you three chits for a beer, but only an idiot would pay more than two. So pay three. And you’re doing great with that slack-jawed expression. You look like a tourist.”
Janus closed his mouth and scowled. “I am basically a tourist.”
“Exactly. You’re doing great. Keep it up,” Lira encouraged.
Janus was starting to find playing the sucker less amusing. “What if someone sees through my act?”
“It’s not really an act,” Lira responded. “And grab me a drink. Make it seem like I’m just browsing while you get ready to spend the big credits.”
“Should we be spending money on beer?” Janus asked, Uncle Ivan’s image rising unbidden in his mind.
“If we don’t, we’ll be spending more on trade. Crossers don’t trust people who don’t drink.”
Janus shrugged and followed his marching orders. He squeezed through the crowds and found an empty stool, then sat down on it. It took a few minutes before he was finally served, and he ordered two beers.
“That’ll be six credits,” the bartender said as he grabbed a couple of mugs.
Janus stopped himself from laughing. Lira had been dead right about them trying to rip him off, down to the prices they’d use. He could even see “two credits a beer” written on a display behind the counter. Normally, he would have said something snarky, maybe walked away on principle, but he had a job to do so he played into the con instead.
“Six credits for each?” Janus asked loudly. “That sounds pretty cheap. Have anything better on tap, something worthy of an aspirant?”
“Six credits for both drinks, Aspirant,” the bartender said, filling the first mug. “It’s strong stuff.”
“C’mon, Carl. You know it’s two,” one of the locals said, and the bartender shot him a look.
Janus shook his head solemnly, starting to enjoy himself. “I don’t want two-credit beer or three-credit beer. Give me the best you have! I’ll pay six credits for it!”
The patrons nearby stopped their conversations and stared at Janus, looking at him like a trilith had just walked into the bar.
The bartender froze for a split second, either caught in a personal crisis of morality or struggling to believe his good luck. “Let me get you the top of the line,” he said, a greasy smile oozing onto his face. He put the glasses he’d just poured under the table and bent down, grabbing two fancier, frosted glasses from the chiller.
He poured beer from the same tap into them.
Janus grinned at the other patron who’d tried to warn him. “Can I buy you one, too, friend?”
The man winced and said, “No thank you,” as if he’d developed a case of indigestion.
“Where you from, Aspirant?” the bartender asked as he filled the second drink.
“Prime Dome,” Janus responded, injecting more pride into the statement than he felt.
“A Primer,” the bartender said loudly, glancing around the room. “I’m sure you’re plenty prepared to survive this trip.”
“Best damned dome on Irkalla,” Janus said, swiping his wrist-comm over the reader to pay the twelve credits and taking a hearty swig of the beer. “We’re going to win, this year! You can all place bets on that!” If anyone hadn’t noticed him before, he had their attention now.
“I’m sure the smart money’s on you, all right,” the bartender said, his eyes colder than the frosted glass. He excused himself to serve other patrons.
From that point on everyone wanted to take a run at talking the idiot aspirant out of his money.
A middle-aged woman on the other side of him turned to him then. She was a large woman with a pleasant smile, even if she had scars and burns from a life on the road. “Aspirant from Prime Dome, eh? Good luck then.”
“Aren’t you cheering for the Crossroads team?” Janus asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not from Crossroads. Where I’m from, our team isn’t in it to win or anything. Half the time, we don’t even finish, we just do it for the travel and… opportunities.”
“Which way you heading from here?” an eager young man asked.
Janus could feel the attention of the other patrons on him as he spoke, as if their eyes exerted actual pressure. “Mercuria. That’s why I need to find the best merchants here, because I know how crooked and twisted you all are.”
Some people’s eyes hardened, while others laughed. A very, very few looked guilty.
“Mercuria? Rough place,” the woman next to him said. “Looks like your glass is empty. How about I buy the next one and you tell us about your trip so far?”
“You want the fancy draft the aspirant drinks?” the bartender said, looking at her flatly.
A flash of anger passed over her face, but she glanced at Janus and said, “Sure, Carl. May the Survivor remember you when you cross the dust.”
The bartender smirked at her and said, “I don’t go out anymore. That’ll be six credits.” He pulled a frosted glass from the chiller.
A rough-faced man next to Janus stared at him without saying anything, and Janus tried to smile, but it didn’t seem to do any good. He wasn’t sure if the man had had an accident—he had the look of a chronic hypoxia case. Janus finally gave up when the bartender brought him his second beer.
Lira’s was still sitting there, dripping condensation.
“So what’s your story?” the woman said.
“Not much to say,” Janus responded. It was hot and the beer was icy cold, so he took another long drink. “This is our first stop.”
“Our?” she asked, leaning on the bar and batting her eyes at him. “Where’s your second?”
“She’s out shopping,” Janus said, waving dismissively. “I do all the big purchases, because I’m the lead aspirant!”
“I bet you are, big boy,” the woman said, touching his shoulder with her finger.
“What’s your route?” an older trader asked, walking up. “You heading south or west from here?”
Janus told them all he was headed to Mercuria, even though he’d already mentioned it once before. It played well into the part.
The trader nodded slowly. “We’re going that way too, actually. Maybe we could travel together? The caravan’s a little slower, but we can roll on during the day and we’re sure to make a big profit reaching Mercuria with an aspirant on board.”
Three more offers were thrown out by the crowd, and two men started scuffling.
“I... uh...” Janus was starting to have trouble keeping his facade of drunken idiocy up, especially now that the second beer was starting to get to him, and he’d somehow started drinking Lira’s.
“It’s a rough place out there, lad,” the trader said. “If you go out there alone, you’re likely to get robbed or run into something worse.”
“Like triliths,” the woman breathed, grabbing his bicep. “Not that a few rock bugs are any problem for someone like you.”
“I’m trying to broker a deal, here, lady,” the trader said, annoyed.
“If you’d just let me,” she said back to him, “I’ll convince him to join you for a small percentage.”
They talked like Janus wasn’t there, and for some reason that made Janus laugh.
A woman with a mechanical arm pushed another beer into his left hand, so Janus finished Lira’s so he could hold the new one in his right.
“You said you make the deals, right? I can get you what you need,” the cyborg said.
“What about the caravan?” the trader asked.
“I can handle myself, but I thank you for the offer,” Janus said, raising a hand to stop him.
“Suit yourself,” the man said, disappointed. He hesitated, then added, “You should at least know that there are two ways to go. You can go north, around and over the top, and hope the flat terrain makes up for the longer route, or you can go through the Scar. Either way, watch out for bandits and triliths.”
“Which way you recommend?” Janus asked.
“We take the long route, but if I were an aspirant,” the trader admitted, “I’d shoot the gap. It’s more of a straight shot and you’ll keep your buggy cooler. Might even be able to travel some during the day on account of the shadow.”
“Thank you,” Janus said, and he meant it.
“I’m from Mercuria. Make the run all the time. I can sell you a map,” the woman to his right said in his ear. “Fifty credits, latest clear route through the Scar. Updated just yesterday.”
“How about a map and a kiss on the cheek?” Janus said with a grin.
She leaned in and kissed him on the jaw, her hand brushing over his wrist-comm.
Janus accepted the trade. What the hell, he thought. Lira told me to act like an ass.
“About those supplies?” the cyborg asked, glancing pointedly at the beer she’d bought him.
They began to haggle. Before Janus knew, he was locking in another contract, although he was smart and semi-sober enough not to transfer credits until the cyborg came back with the goods.
He finished his fourth beer, buzzed and happy, and decided to go find Lira.
He ran into her on the way out, and he smiled at her. Things were going nicely indeed. “You find a buyer?” he asked.
She nodded. “Traded the PrimeGro for high-efficiency air filters. Got more than I expected, but less than I hoped. How’d your play go?”
“Great,” Janus responded. “I got that fuel injection nozzle we were looking for, and better shock absorbers for the trailer.”
The expression on Lira’s face could have turned a lesser man to stone, but at that particular moment, Janus let it slide off him. “That wasn’t part of the plan, Janus. You were supposed to be the arrogant aspirant who wants to spend money, but not actually spend the few credits we actually have. How much did you pay for it?”
“One-fifty each for the shock absorbers, and an even five hundred for the injectors.”
Lira turned pale. “That’s twice what they’re worth, if we can use them at all. I thought we agreed to leave the haggling to me.”
The whole time, they’d been drifting away from the bar, and Janus saw some people laughing and pointing at his expense. He kept the look of benign stupidity on his face until he’d turned away, and then he smiled wolfishly at his second. “Twice what they’re worth if these were made in Crossroads, but look at the markings, Lira. These are from Beta. Guy must have got them from a refugee or a desperate scavenger and didn’t know what he was selling. This is going to shave hours off each leg, maybe a day or two if we’re lucky and we time it just right.”
Lira looked the parts over and, to her credit, she started nodding her head. “Okay, maybe I underestimated you.”
Janus winked. “It’s all right. I am drunk, and I couldn’t have navigated this place without you. But if we’re going to do this, I need you to trust me, too,” Janus said.
“Trust is earned, Janus,” Lira retorted. “But I’ll keep this in mind next time. You did well, for a—”
Janus’s hackles started to rise.
“—first-time visitor to Crossroads,” she finished.
Janus nodded, and some of his good humor bled away. He’d been sure she was going to say for an outsider.