Page 26 of A Darkside Interlude

In truth, there was only one way to deal with the mating fever, and Iskar suspected he would be paying a visit to the slums of Darkside very soon.

Chapter Eleven

Bambambam!

“Ugh. What time is it?” Mari groaned as the hollow metallic sound jolted her out of sleep. Echoes of lustful fever-dreams lingered in her mind, thanks to a certain silver-skinned stranger.

He hadn’t even given her his name, and yet he had the audacity to haunt her in his sleep. She shuddered, trying to shake off the strange sense of longing that had invaded every single one of her senses.

Above her, a slow fan stirred the sluggish air, doing little to improve the sweltering temperature. Mari sat up and pulled on a thin t-shirt. She stared at the ceiling, squinting at the faint holo-projection.

12:31pm

Shit. It was already past midday. No wonder it was so hot. Panic gripped her as she rolled out of bed and tugged on a pair of loose shorts. She was late, and she had nothing for the Collector.

How the hell was she going to talk her way out of this one? She’d think of something; she always did.

“Artoo,” she hissed, peering through a hole in the floorboards. “Who’s out there?”

Seconds later, her little brother pulled himself up the drop-ladder, taking it two rungs at a time. He wore a panicked expression. “First, you bring home some big-shot alien, and now there are mean-looking thugs at our door? What did you do last night, sis?”

“Thugs?” Shit. Mari crossed the floor and peered through the view-hole in the wall, where a small rectangular mirror reflected the entrance below. Standing in the red dust were four dark-suited men. With their slicked back hair and reflective holo-glasses, they reminded her of sharks.

The man in front—the one banging on the door with his big, tattooed fist—was all too familiar. Cold unease swirled around in the pit of her stomach.

“Hey, Blue, don’t waste my fuckin’ time. Ya know what happens to people who waste my time.” His raspy voice penetrated the thin walls, making her skin crawl.

The Collector.

He was here, at her fucking home! The asshole rarely ever ventured out of his domain—gangsters hated getting their feet dirty in the dusty streets of the slums—but now he was here, banging on her door.

She turned to Arturo. “Stay here, little bro. Pull up the drop-ladder and don’t make a sound. Anything happens to me, you know where the treasure chest is. You know what you have to do. Take it and don’t ever look back.”

“No fucking way. I’m not gonna run away and leave you to deal with these dickwads on your own.” He grabbed her arm and looked up at her with eyes that were full of anger and fear and… helplessness. That was the worst thing about living in the Dust Alleys. When the sharks came knocking at your door, there was nothing you could do. Unable to run, fight, or go to the authorities, Mari and Artoo were very much on their own.

“Arturo,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “You will not do anything to put yourself in danger. Please, Artoo. These people will kill you just for breathing their air. Just stay up here and keep quiet.”

“I’ll climb out of the roof-hatch and run to the nearest Enforcer station.”

Sadness crept over Mari as she shook her head. “Don’t. You really think the Enforcers are going to set foot in the Dust Alleys?” She hated to chip away at Artoo’s naivete—a twelve year old boy should be allowed to have some faith in the world—but she didn’t want Artoo to be logged by Enforcement, especially when there was no chance in hell they’d attend a disturbance all the way out here.

She’d heard the stories. The nature of his complaint—an incident involving organized crime figures—could negatively affect his MQ and ruin his chances of entering the Federation for good.

Not on my watch.

“Artoo, just go.” Mari fought to keep her voice from wavering as she planted a kiss on her brother’s forehead. “I’ll be fine. You know I can talk my way out of almost anything.” She forced a smile.

Boom! A deafening blast came from below, followed by a metallic groan.

A split-second later, there was a monumental crash.

The door had fallen in.

“Artoo, take the treasure chest and get out of here. Don’t argue. Just go.”

“Run with me, sis,” Artoo pleaded. “Let’s leave this shithole and never come back.”

But where would we go? The thought of running away had crossed Mari’s mind many times, but it was pointless.

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