An Unexpected Debt – Chapter 11

It’s been a long morning full of spa treatments, thanks to Marcelo. My hair is cut, styled, and silky soft. It flows over my shoulder in dark, wide waves. The staff shaped my eyebrows, waxed my legs, and painted my nails pale pink, not a color I usually go with. I’m more of a wine red or black nails kind of girl, but this is a pleasant change of pace. I just have another hour to go with more body hair removal and a light massage before I’m released to return to my hotel room and get dressed.

I’ve spent the time thinking about what Amira said about family and blood relatives. In a lot of ways, she’s absolutely right. Family should not treat me the way I’ve been treated my whole life. My skin crawls just imagining what would happen if Vivian found out. I’ve done nothing but lie to her for years about my situation. At first, I kept the secret because of the way Dominic would shame me into silence. Then, as I grew older, it became easier to just stay quiet and not deal with the questions.

I hate this. I’m already sick of my older brothers and most of Mom’s consorts, but I don’t want to disown anyone because I’m worried about Ana and the younger boys. Where will they be if Mom’s not taking care of them? Goodness knows none of the dads can get a job or earn money to support any of them.

There’s really no way out for me.

I access my messages as I wander from the nail salon to the café. Great. Dominic has sandwiched his message on top of all of my other messages in my family inbox. I stop in the middle of the hallway, tip my face to the ceiling, and let out a giant, whining sigh. For fuck’s sake. With him as Communications Director, he has far too much power over Mom and what she sees and hears, and I can never get a break from him. I steel myself and play the message.

“Skylar, I hear your first meeting with Takemo Diaz did not go well, and we are still in this predicament that your laziness has gotten us into.”

All the calm I had built up over the morning evaporates away in a puff.

“Going away to flight school was a privilege,” he stresses. “And we didn’t have to pay for it, either. We did it out of the kindness of our hearts.”

Bullshit. When I went to flight school for the first time at twenty years old, I could only be away for a month because I didn’t have my own money or independence. I had to do almost everything remotely except for the sims. I am a grown fucking adult. I don’t need his permission to do anything.

“So, you will now be paying us back for flight school. It’s obviously not gotten you anywhere of value if you can’t get your mother out of this situation. I am submitting a balance due to you. Don’t make me take you to court over this. Your family would be so disappointed in you.”

I find a seat in the café, way over in the corner, and access my inbox. Yep. There’s an invoice from Dominic and Kawabata Shipping. Eighteen thousand credits. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against my hand. Who does this? Who reneges on school tuition like this?

Assholes like Dominic, that’s who.

I open the invoice and choose the option to not pay. I add the comment, “I’m not paying you, not one fucking credit. Take me to court.” Send.

There.

Debts, debts, debts. Why does it feel like I will always be indebted to someone?

I take a deep breath and shrug off the tension that’s crept into my neck as I cross the café to get some mint water and a few cookies. Thanks, Dominic, for ruining my cool. I could have been relaxing. I could have been sitting and wondering what this man is like, who I’m about to meet and spend the evening with. I could have been doing anything else but stewing over his petty and cruel ways to make my life a miserable mess.

If I weren’t in a quiet spa, I’d scream at the top of my lungs.

That would feel really awesome right about now.

Okay, time to calm down and find my zen again.

I read on my datapad while I wait for my next appointment. Nothing too taxing, just a white paper on the technology that powers the jump rings used to travel the Duo Systems. They have fascinated me since I was a kid, but learning about their technology and power systems was never a top priority for me until recently.

I stare out into space as I remember the mission I went on with Vivian to Neve, the frostiest planet in the Brazilianos System. In the basement depths of the military base we broke into, there was a jump ring connected to other places… and other times.

Where were they hoping to go?

I glance back at the white paper and skim through it, looking for more information on who developed the technology. There must be scientists and engineers associated with the project I can track down and talk to once I get past this nonsense with the debt my mom has incurred.

Flipping through page after page, skimming data and information, faster than I usually would, I’m hoping to find a name or two. I could ask Ai to do this research for me, but I’m keeping my ideas close to my chest until I’m sure I know what I’m doing.

Skim, skim, skim, stop.

My eyes focus on a name I recognize. Not a name of a person, but a company.

Patras Technologies. Wait. Is that the same as Patras Agriculture? That’s India Dellis’s company on Ossun. India’s sister is Renata Dellis, CEO of Athens Industries. Up until the auction of Vivian’s farm, we thought India would try to buy it.

But India turned out to be more of an ally than an enemy.

Patras Technologies. What do they have to do with the jump rings?

I slow down my eyes and read the next paragraph. “Patras Technologies provided the proprietary technology that boosted the jump rings into everyday usage. The technique is simple. The algorithm helps focus the jump ring wormholes once they’re open by matching star charts to various levels of subspace with a 99.99 percent accuracy.”

Jesus. I wonder what happens to the point-zero-one leftover?

As if to answer my question, the paper continues, “Focusing one sending-ring on the coordinates of a receiving-ring improved accuracy a hundred fold. Patras Technologies has been supplying and refining the technology since its inception in 185.”

I’ve always known the jump rings were old technology, but year 185? That’s hundreds of years ago at this rate. Is Patras Technologies still around? Or are they just an agricultural conglomerate now?

Is this the technology they want to use to colonize other systems?

I have far too many questions.

“Skylar Kawabata?”

I tear my eyes from the white paper and look up at the woman hovering over my table. My breathing is fast and labored from all the thoughts swirling through my head, and I didn’t even hear this woman approach.

“Yes,” I say warily.

She doesn’t look like a spa employee, but plenty of people in here are not employees. A few spa customers are sitting on the couches at the far end of the room, and a couple of men sit at tables, reading and drinking coffee.

The woman slips into the chair across from me, and I hold my breath, leaning back. Am I going to have to call the management?

She reaches across the table and snags a cookie from my plate.

Hey now. Cookies are sacred items, especially chocolate chip ones.

“Hi, I’m Kenzie. Sorry I couldn’t join you and Amira last night for dinner. I had other plans.”

I set my datapad down and grab my mint water while she munches on the cookie she just stole from me. The mention of Amira’s name sets my nerves at ease, though I have no idea who Kenzie is. Amira didn’t suggest anyone else was supposed to join us for dinner, except for her potential boyfriend.

“Okay,” I say, dragging out the word into several syllables. “I’d love to say we missed you, but who are you?”

She places her hand on her chest. “Me? I’m Kenzie. Didn’t I just say that?”

I sigh, roll my eyes, and grab my datapad and plate. “I’m out.”

I don’t have time for this, especially when I had found my zen again and was getting somewhere with my research. I hate being interrupted.

“Wait,” she says, extending her hand with a chuckle. “Sorry. Amira and I are always fooling around. I thought you’d be game.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “I fool around with friends. I don’t know you.”

“Got it.” She finishes the cookie, dusts off her hands, and raises them in surrender. “Please, sit.” She waves to the chair I vacated, so I slide back in. “Amira and I are old friends. I’ve done work for both her and her family’s shipping company, so you can talk with her mom too if you need a reference. I’m what you would term a ‘finder of things.’” She traces circles on the table with her finger. “Things like rare ship parts, people who go missing…” She lifts her eyes to meet mine. “Weapons.”

“Ah,” I say, tipping my head back. “I see. You’re that friend.”

“The very same. Amira tells me you need some protection for your ship. Mind telling me why? I like to hear the stories behind my missions.”

I inhale and thank the universe that I still have a massage coming up because thinking about this makes me tense. I suck in a quick breath at the reminder of the guns in my face, the way the men threw me to the floor, and the sound of Gus’s arm breaking. I blink a few times and push the memories farther back in my head where they belong.

Someday, I’ll show them they messed with the wrong woman.

Takemo Diaz is not the only person I’m seeking revenge on.

“My ship has been hijacked before,” I say, pulling myself back to the present.

“By whom? A private party? Pirates?”

“The military,” I fill in.

Her lips form an O, and she sucks in a breath that almost whistles. “You’ll never have enough firepower to go against the military. Sorry to say.”

“Understood.” I swallow to keep my belly still. “I’m not particularly worried about them trying to hijack my ship again. But there was also trouble at flight school recently, and I think it’s time I protected myself and my crew.”

She leans forward. “Wait a second. The ship that was hijacked over Sonoma, right? Were you on Amira’s ship, or were you in the escape pod that landed in the desert?”

I swallow through my dry throat.

“Desert” is all I can say.

She nods slowly. “I see. Your rescue was the talk of the duonet for weeks, but they didn’t mention a name.”

“The school kept my identity private.” I bob my head from side to side. “A favor to me after I threatened to sue them for their lack of security. My family has been in the news enough to last a lifetime. Anyway, the real problem is that I know the hijacker, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last time I run into her.”

“Her? Was it Tina Cruz?” she asks.

I file the name away for later and raise my eyebrows. “No. I don’t know Tina Cruz.”

“You’re better off,” she says, her voice rumbling. “You’re not going to tell me who it was?”

I press my lips together. “I think this is information better left unsaid.”

I’m pretty sure Kalvin is keeping this a secret since he used to fly with Cressida and her crew. I glance down at my datapad and wonder where he is and what he’s doing. Has he finished his family business? Will I see him again before I leave Palo Alto? Last I heard, he was here.

“What kind of ship do you fly now?” Kenzie asks, knocking me out of my head.

“A Tanuki class cruiser. Do you know them?”

She nods. “I know enough. I’ll familiarize myself with the layout and come up with the right solution for you. It’ll cost you, though.”

“I have the credits.” Just enough to get me what I need. Hopefully, it’s enough.

Kenzie stands up.

“You’re Amira’s friend, so you get a discount,” she says, winking. “Amira doesn’t have a lot of friends, and if she’s willing to vouch for you, that means a lot in my book.”

“I don’t know how long I’m going to be on Palo Alto.”

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll find you.”

Finder of things, right.

My wristlet chimes with a reminder to attend my next spa session, and by the time I look back up again, Kenzie is gone, like she was never there in the first place.