Page 10 of The Captain's Bounty
Bruwes checked the log of their holds next. They had a few things to sell, but nothing worth anything on a rock like this. Six crates of medical-grade biobile scheduled to be delivered to a perfume manufacturer on Degnater in four days—impossible without a jump coil. Two water skimmers they’d salvaged from a drift of jettisoned space debris—both of which Aldar had got working, but which were absolutely useless on this moon and the planet Cutirut wasn’t much better. The terraformed zones were just as hot, sandy and miserable as it was anywhere else, they just had more Corporate amenities, like clean air, drinkable water and neighbors who were slightly less likely to stab you in your sleep, but only slightly.
The door chimed as someone in the hall outside sought entrance.
Switching off the log, he did not unlock it.
After a moment, the commlink crackled and Cory’s dry tone filtered through the speakers. “Can I come in yet, or are you still thinking of selling me to nearest brothel?”
Bruwes snorted. Knowing how well she obeyed anyone—Doc Demin included—he’d be lucky to get twenty chits for her, never mind two thousand.
He tapped the control panel and let her in.
She held up a finger, her blue eyes sparkling. “Before you decide to have me outfitted in skimpy black lingerie, let me show you what just came over the SATsCom.”
“We don’t have the chits to waste on mating underwear,” Bruwes said dourly.
“Which is probably for the best,” she said, breezing in to plop onto the control seat beside him. “He’d only rip them off me, anyway.”
Bruwes glared out the window, teeth gritted to keep from replying. He didn’t need to hear about her mating exploits with his ship’s doctor. It only served to remind him that he didn’t have anyone to have his own exploits with.
She thrust a tablet at him, forcing him to switch his glare from the ship directly to it. “What is this?”
“A job they posted while you were gone.” Reaching over his hand, she tapped the screen, pulling up a profile picture of a woman. Another Earthling. Funny how he’d gone his entire life up until a year ago never having seen one, and now they were like the grains of sand on this cursed planet—on and in everything. His shoes, his shower, the bed, even his underwear. The sand, not the woman. That would be a completely different kind of irritant.
“Rebelarchaeologist,” he read. “How is that even a thing?”
Cory shrugged one shoulder. “Raided the wrong tomb, I guess.”
“Bold of you to assume they bury their dead here. You try the stew at the Salty Lady?
“Yeah, I found an adreno-enhancement implant in my bowl once. Still had charges. It was cool,” she said lightly. “Like the toy you get at the bottom of a box of cereal.”
“That is a human joke and you know I refuse to understand those,” Bruwes announced. “So, what did this nefarious archaeologist do?”
Cory arched her eyebrows at him. “What does it matter what she did, look at that price tag!”
Six thousand chits.
He studied the sum, dark eyes narrowing.
“Sixthousandchits!” Cory exclaimed, a tinge of frustration slipping into her voice when he said nothing. “What’s wrong with you? On any other day, you’d happily sell me for a tenth that price!”
He tsked, shooting her a dry look. “No, I would not.”
She was the only thing of value they had on this ship. He wasn’t selling her unless he got at least enough to replace their malfunctioning jump coil.
Why would someone offer so much for a tomb robber?
He swiped the screen up, reading through the sparse details until he found who’d posted the bounty. “This is a Corporate contract.”
Cory beamed. “Exactly. And there’s a Corporate operations base on Cutirut,” she said, pointing through the Raider’s ceiling at the sky where the dusty rock this moon orbited hung like a second, dead sun. “We don’t even need a jump coil to deliver her. It’ll just take a while to get there.”
“You’re suggesting we use, what? Our docking thrusters? To propel us through space?”
“Just to the planet!”
“Woman, we could walk there faster than a docking thruster can push us.”
“Now you’re just nit-picking.”
