Before Nova could protest any further, Daxar stormed out of the hospital room’s door. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been quite this angry. He was filled with a red rage, but not just at Nova. He was furious with himself.
How could he have been so stupid? He had all these ridiculous quarantine procedures in place, and yet he had let a mountain of basestos just sit there, a quarter mile from the city dome.
He had not been vigilant enough. He’d let his guard down, perhaps blinded by the fact that Nova was undeniably beautiful. But no matter how beautiful she was, she was an outsider. And Zocrone didn’t welcome outsiders. He had to get her and her crew out of here, and the sooner the better.
Her kind was not welcome here.
Chapter Five
The next twenty-four hours were a whirlwind for Nova. Doc Kromin, who was about five hundred times nicer than Daxar, checked Nova and gave her the all clear to leave the hospital. She was given a small apartment near the center of Zocrone, and her crew members were all given similar apartments in the same building. The Zocronian woman who showed them to their temporary quarters apologized over and over for how small the apartments were, but Nova told her not to worry. After all, after spending most of your time living in the cramped quarters of a cargo ship, having a whole apartment to yourself felt like moving into a mansion. The woman was still apologetic, though, and Nova wondered how it was possible that all of the Zocronians acted so politely when their Chief was such an asshole. A freakishly gorgeous asshole, yes. But still an asshole.
Nova hadn’t seen Daxar since he stormed out of her hospital room, but true to his word he’d sent along someone to help her get together all of the parts and equipment she needed to fix her ship. Daxar had forbidden anyone from towing the Starburst into the city, which irked Nova. Once the crates of basestos had been removed, the ship itself was completely benign. It posed no danger to Zocrone, but Daxar wouldn’t budge. He didn’t want the ship in his city, so all of the repairs would have to be done outside in the harsh atmosphere of open Zocrone. This meant that the work would need to be done while wearing survival suits, which meant it would take about ten times as long to fix the ship as it would have if Zocrone’s stubborn Chief had been reasonable and allowed the ship to be moved to one of Zocrone’s repair bays.
His problem. He’s the one who wants me off this planet, like, yesterday. So if he wants to force me to stay ten times longer, that’s his loss, not mine.
At least, that’s what Nova told herself. But the truth was, she was quite worried about the time it would take to get the ship fixed and get out of here. The basestos should have been delivered today at the latest. When it didn’t show up, the buyer would know something was wrong. He might give it another day, but then he’d be contacting the seller. And the seller would be pissed that his buyer was pissed. And everyone would blame Nova, which at best would make it difficult for her to get jobs with these guys in the future and at worse would make them decide to send someone out to kill Nova off for being such an unreliable nuisance.
The smuggling world was a tough one.
Nova had known this when she got into this job. She’d hoped to make some money and then get out alive in a few years. She’d made money—plenty of it. But whether she’d get out alive, well, the jury was still out on that one.
Nova stood and crossed the room of the apartment she’d been given, and went to pick up her broken e-assistant. What little of the screen that remained was a web of shattered cosmic glass, which still baffled Nova’s mind. This stuff was supposed to be unbreakable, and yet her screen had broken and nearly killed her. How had she been so unlucky?
“I wonder if it can be fixed?” she mused aloud. Then she decided she might as well go out and check. She was going to drive herself crazy sitting in here with only her tormented thoughts to keep her company. Maisie had taken charge of the repairs on the Starburst, and Evie and Anya were helping out as best they could. But after Nova had a chance to inspect the ship this morning, Maisie had sent her back into the city dome, telling her she needed to rest. Nova had tried to protest, but Evie and Anya had ganged up with Maisie, and Nova knew it would be useless to argue with all three of them at once. She’d rest another day to make them happy, and then head back out to help with repairs.
Since she was stuck being treated like some sort of delicate, wounded flower, she might as well make use of the time and deal with her e-assistant problem. She either needed to get it fixed, or buy a new one. Smuggling didn’t work so well when you weren’t connected to the intergalactic web and your clients didn’t have a way to get in touch with you.
Nova gingerly placed the broken e-assistant into her dove gray messenger bag, which she had salvaged from the ship this morning, and she left her apartment.
“Goodbye, Nova Wolke,” a pleasant computerized voice said as the door closed behind her. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
“I’ll try,” she muttered. “It’ll be a lot more enjoyable if I can get this e-assistant working again.” At the very least, she needed to send an e-memo to the basestos clients, letting them know that there had been an unexpected delay but that their cargo was safe. They still weren’t going to be happy, but hopefully once they knew what was going on, they’d at least not send a hit man after her to kill her.
Nova walked down the long hallway to the elevator pod. The floors here, as well as the roads, were all made of moonstone. She’d never seen such widespread use of the stone. As a building material, it was rather expensive. Lovely, and durable. But expensive. The Zocronians obviously weren’t hurting for money, which surprised her a bit. She hadn’t expected this planet in the middle of nowhere to be wealthy.
But Zocrone, despite its Chief’s sour attitude, had proven to be a lovely place. Outside the city dome, Zocrone might be hostile and cold. But inside, everything was different. Everything felt like paradise. Nova rode the elevator pod down to the first floor and stepped out of the apartment building into that paradise.
The Zocronians had turned their city dome into what must have been the Seven Galaxies’ largest greenhouse. The city contained more tropical plants than Earth’s Amazon rainforest reportedly had back in the twenty-first century, before it was destroyed by inter-Galactic corporations looking to make a quick payload off of producing and selling Earth coffee. Nova had seen a few tropical plants here and there during her travels, mostly in small conservation centers that offered tours for small donations. But she had never seen anything like Zocrone.
The city seemed to exist inside a rainforest. All along the moonstone roads stood slick moonstone buildings of all shapes and sizes. The buildings ranged from one story shops to apartment and office buildings that rose up to fifteen stories. Nova’s apartment appeared to be on the edge of a residential area, because she only had to walk a few blocks before the buildings changed from houses to businesses.
But no matter what type of building she was walking past, one thing remained constant: the plants. The ground was populated by thick, emerald green ferns that had flowers of all colors. Pink, purple, and blue seemed to be the most common. Amidst the ferns grew oversized bushes, loaded down with colorful fruits. Nova had never seen any of the fruits before, but just the sight of them made her mouth water. They looked like they would taste delicious. Then there were trees of all shapes and sizes. Some of the trees grew to about the same height as the buildings beside them. Others towered above the buildings, reaching all the way to the top of the dome. Occasionally, a monkey would swing through those treetops high above Nova, belting out a constant stream of chatter to let everyone know it was there. Nova also caught an occasional glimpse of a parrot. These creatures were all but extinct back on Earth, but they seemed plentiful here.
There were other creatures, too, which Nova did not recognize. An animal that looked somewhat like a miniature tiger, but which had six legs and horns on its head, frequently darted across the moonstone road in front of her. The first time she saw one, she yelped and jumped ba
ck in fear. But the animal, whatever it was, only looked up at her for a brief, curious moment, and then continued on its way. Since then, Nova had seen dozens of the strange creature, and none of them seemed aggressive. Strange birds flew among the trees, too. Birds with colorful tail feathers that Nova guessed were about four feet long, and purple birds with wings so short they were only for decoration. The small-winged birds didn’t fly, but could they ever run. Their legs were long and strong, and their whole bodies were a shimmering purple blur as they darted around the city.
And of course, in the midst of all of this astounding flora and fauna, there were also the Zocronians themselves. The blue-skinned race fit in quite well in their tropical world, their skin seeming to turn into a deeper shade of blue against the emerald green background of their world. All of them were tall and muscular. Even the women here looked exceptionally strong. Nova couldn’t help but noticing, however, that no one quite reached the level of strength that Daxar obviously had.
That man was a mystery. Nova hadn’t seen him in person since he’d stormed out of her hospital room, and she hated the fact that she wished she would cross paths with him. Despite his less than stellar social skills, something about him called to her. She told herself that it was just natural curiosity over the most powerful man on an isolated yet rich planet like Zocrone. She did her best to force her thoughts away from him, and back to taking in her surroundings.
Those surroundings felt quite magical, and the magical feel of the place was only made stronger by the fact that there weren’t very many vehicles here. The roads were mainly used for walking, and occasionally a solar-powered hovercraft would zip by. More common were solar-powered hoverboards, which looked remarkably similar to the old style surfboards that were currently sweeping the vintage markets back on Earth. But despite the fact that this city was large, especially for a domed city, most of the natives appeared to prefer traveling around on foot. That meant that Nova fit right in as she ambled along—other than the fact, of course, that her skin wasn’t blue. She didn’t have much of a choice besides walking, anyway, since she didn’t have a hoverboard and didn’t think it was worth buying one for the short amount of time she’d be in Zocrone.
She’d been told that there was an industrial section of Zocrone, where all the spaceships, rovers, and other assorted fuel-powered vehicles were kept. But those vehicles were kept out of the main parts of the city as much as possible. Zocronians valued their peaceful, laidback way of life.
Right now, Nova was walking past a series of small businesses. One shop, a bakery of sorts, was selling confections that looked like a cross between a donut and a cupcake. According to the sign in the window, the treats must have been called “bripaws.” They were all bright neon colors, as were the beverages the bakery was selling. Nova wasn’t sure whether the drinks were more like a juice or a soda, but she’d have to come back another time to try. She needed to focus on getting her e-assistant fixed before she started sampling all the local cuisines. So far, she’d only been conscious for two meals here, both of which had consisted of some sort of strange food bars that tasted like stale protein bars. That’s what the Zocronians had stocked her apartment’s pantry with, and she hadn’t wanted to complain. She’d also been too tired to go out and shop until now. She made a mental note to find whatever this planet’s equivalent of a grocery store was on the way home.
The next shop she passed was selling hoverboards, and she quickly walked on by. A clothing store followed, filled with the same colorful shirts and pants that she’d seen many of the Zocronians wearing. Daxar hadn’t worn anything so colorful, at least not when he’d been around Nova. He seemed to prefer plain blacks and grays to the flashier options.
Why do I relate everything here back to Daxar? It’s not like I haven’t met anyone else. There was Doctor Kromin for one. And then Jarmuk and Toryx when they escorted me out to see the Starburst. Oh, and the girl who showed me my apartment…I can’t remember her name.
But Daxar was the Zocronian who had really gotten under her skin. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. With a huff, Nova walked faster, pleased to see that the next shop was an all-purpose electronics repair shop. These places were all over the Seven Galaxies. No matter what planet you were on, no matter how ritzy or impoverished the city, you could always find one of these little shops, and the owners were always whizzes with electronics. Nova had briefly dated a guy who owned a shop like this, and she’d been amazed at how he could look at an e-assistant for two seconds and instantly know what was wrong with it. It had been uncanny.
It was pretty obvious what was wrong with her e-assistant. It needed a new screen. She just hoped the guy in this shop had a way to replace it. Unbreakable cosmic glass shattering couldn’t be too common of a problem. But surely, if it had happened to her, it must have happened to someone else before. She couldn’t be the only one.
She needed to get this e-assistant fixed, contact her basestos clients, and get off this planet before she started thinking about Daxar even more than she already was. Something told her that the blue, big-muscled man was nothing but trouble.
The best kind of trouble.
Nova bit her lower lip as she entered the store, but then smiled at the man behind the counter. He was an older Zocronian—the first one she had seen with white hair. He had kind eyes with a grandfatherly warmth in them, and Nova instantly felt better. She hadn’t even realized how on edge she had been. Despite all of Daxar’s talk about outsiders not being welcome here, he seemed like the only Zocronian who actually hated outsiders. The rest of the planet seemed friendly enough.
“Can I help you?” the man asked in crisp Universal.
“I’m hoping so,” Nova replied, also in Universal. She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out the e-assistant, then held it up so he could see the shattered screen. “Do you think you can fix this?”
His eyes widened, and he unconsciously slipped into speaking Zocronian. Nova understood him perfectly though, thanks to her translator chip. “Dang, girl. What the sludge did you do?”
Chapter Six
Merkin, as the old Zocronian turned out to be called, had slipped on a pair of electronic eye enhancers, and was leaning over Nova’s e-assistant with a furrowed brow. Nova resisted the urge to ask him again if he thought he could fix it. Surely, the man would tell her as soon as he knew.
“This is strange,” he muttered. “It’s definitely genuine cosmic glass, but it’s definitely shattered.”
Tell me something I don’t already know. But Nova resisted the urge to make a snarky comment. Merkin was mostly talking to himself as he spoke, and she knew better than to interrupt his thought process while he assessed the damaged e-assistant. Nova’s ex-boyfriend who had done this sort of work had complained constantly about people never shutting up when he was trying to think.
Finally Merkin looked up and shrugged. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I have no idea what happened.”
Nova’s heart sank. “So you can’t fix it, then?”
“Oh, child! Of course I can fix it. Replacing a screen is easy as duku.”
Nova frowned. “Duku?”
“Never mind. It’s just an expression. It means really easy. We have Zocronians requesting screen replacements all the time. Someone might want to upgrade to a better, no-glare screen, for example. Or there are privacy screens too, which only allow someone wearing a coded eye enhancer to see through. That way you can sit next to someone in a crowded cantina and read confidential material without worrying that anyone is spying on you.”
“I knew those types of screens existed.” I’m a smuggler, after all. I know a thing or two about confidentiality. “But I had no idea you could upgrade your screen in an existing e-assistant. I thought you just had to buy the e-assistant with the type of screen you want already in it.”
Merkin shook a finger at her, his eyes dancing merrily. “No, no, no. Welcome to the twenty-fifth century, child. We can do all sorts of aftermarke
t stuff to e-assistants these days. I’ll have this fixed up for you in a jiffy. What do you want? Standard cosmic glass again? Or any other upgrades? I do have privacy screens, if that’s your sort of thing. In fact I just got a new one in that’s pretty cool. It looks like a pretty starscape screensaver to anyone not wearing eye enhancers.”
“I’ll just do standard cosmic glass,” Nova said, a bit reluctantly. She would have loved to spring for an expensive privacy screen, but she needed to conserve her funds now. For one thing, she wasn’t sure how much the repairs on the Starburst were going to cost. For another thing, she might not get all of the money she’d been promised on the basestos delivery, since delivery was going to be much later than expected. But the worst part, really, was that this whole fiasco could affect her ability to get future jobs. The smuggling world was small, and although Nova had built up a good reputation, she knew that reputation would be easy to lose. If the wrong people caught wind of the fact that she’d had ship trouble, she wouldn’t be getting very many jobs anymore.
“Standard cosmic glass it is then,” Merkin said in a cheerful voice as he turned to start gathering supplies. “Always an excellent choice.”
“You’d think,” Nova muttered. “But apparently even cosmic glass isn’t great to have around in a spaceship crash.”
Merkin paused, his hand hovering over a box on his supply shelf. “Even a spaceship crash shouldn’t be enough to break cosmic glass. They’ve done force tests on the screens, you know. The only times I’ve ever heard of cosmic glass breaking were when the glass itself was defective for some reason, or when someone deliberately sabotaged the glass. Which, by the way, is hard to do. You have to really know what you’re doing to sabotage cosmic glass. It takes an expert.”
The Alphas of the Seven Galaxies Page 5
