Page 8 of Kiss of Steel

The official consulted his MCD. “There’s been a delay in her arrival.”

“What kind of a delay?” Fury’s face fell with disappointment.

The official squinted at his device. “Something about needing treatment for an ear infection before she can travel. She has been rescheduled on the next Cosmic Mates ship.”

“An ear infection?” Fury looked at Steel.

He shrugged. “Don’t ask me.” Humans contracted all sorts of maladies. “How does that stop her from coming?” he asked on Fury’s behalf. “Isn’t the condition treatable?”

“It takes a while to clear up. It doesn’t prevent one from traveling, once in space, but, due to air pressure changes during launch, blastoff is extremely painful. You humans are rather fragile. Anyway, grab your stuff, I’ll bring you to meet your bride.”

“Sorry, man.” Steel grimaced an apology. He felt bad for Fury and a little guilty. The one eager to meet his bride had to wait, while the other who would prefer never to meet his, got one. They were both dissatisfied. More proof life wasn’t fair. “I’d trade places with you if I could.” His gaze shot to the official. “Could I give my bride to Fury and wait for his?”

The official looked scandalized. “Absolutely not! I don’t work for Cosmic Mates—I’m with Refuge—but people are not interchangeable objects to be traded and passed around. And Cosmic Mates matched you to a specific person.”

“It’s okay.” Fury clapped his shoulder. “Anything worth having is worth waiting for.”

Steel collected his duffel from the footlocker. The bag contained all his worldly possessions—a few hand-me-down clothing items he’d been issued upon arrival and the blaster he’d purloined from the spaceship bound for Hell’s Gate and smuggled onto the planet in violation of the weapons ban.

Owning anything was a new experience. A cyborg didn’t own property; hewasproperty.

“See you around…Mike,” he said because the situation seemed to call for some sort of a farewell.

“Catch you later, Fucking.” Fury grinned.

He felt an odd pang at the prospect he might never see the other cyborg again. They weren’tfriends—at least he didn’t think they were—but they had been through a lot together, and Fury had helped him out—he’d come back for him, and he’d been instrumental in him receiving asylum. Steel could have and would have gotten himself off the Solution’s vessel, but then what would he have done? Where could he have gone?

On the other hand, Fury had been responsible for him being burdened with a wife, so his assistance could be considered a mixed bag, but he wouldn’t hold it against him.

Outside the barracks, the official handed him a card. “You may use this for your purchases—food, clothing, whatever. Don’t spend it all at once because it’s not a lot. But it will tide you over until you get your first pay credits. Based on your entry aptitude test and the needs assessment questionnaire you completed, you have been assigned to Haven Ranch.”

The founder of Refuge didn’t believe in handouts. Hence, in exchange for sanctuary, refugees worked. He’d expected to be assigned a job.

“Doing what?” he asked.

“Training and breaking hornigers. You’re going to be a ranch hand.”

Ranch hand? What the hell was a horniger?

It could have been worse, he supposed, considering little he’d reported had been truthful.

What did your last job entail?the survey had asked.

Killing people.He knew better than to report that.

What are you good at?

Same.

So, he’d made up a bunch of shit.

“You and Honoria Foster will share a domicile unit at Haven,” the official continued. “You have just enough time to get married before the conveyance drives you out there.”

He’d spent a week scratching his ass and playing poker with Fury, but things were moving faster than a rocket now.

As they headed for the reception building, a chilly breeze sweeping across the compound reduced the already nippy temperature by several degrees. Cold, like pain, was tolerable. Cyborgs could withstand temperature extremes. Hypothermia and its flipside cousin, heatstroke, rarely occurred.

And the latter would be even less likely on Refuge, which orbited its star at a greater distance than Earth revolved around its sun. The distance, although slight astronomically, impacted temperature. He’d been told there were two seasons: cold and freeze your nuts.

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