A Fistful of Trouble (Outlaws of the Galaxy Book 2), Paul Tomlinson [bts books to read .txt] 📗

leading into the port with a guy in a hut checking the details of every truck that arrived. The exit was off the same loop road about a mile away and the barrier there was automated.

“What do you think?” Harmony asked.

“Not exactly tourist-friendly,” I said. “We can’t just drive in and head for the short-stay car park.”

“Doesn’t look like we’ll have too much trouble with security patrols,” she said.

“There are cameras all around the main building, a couple watching the hangars, and maybe a couple on each of the landing zones watching the freight coming in,” I said. “We have to avoid the cameras.”

“We’ll be fine as long as we look like we belong there.”

“If they have face-recognition, they’ll spot me at a hundred paces and send out a general alert,” I said.

“You’re in the system?” Harmony asked. She seemed surprised by this.

I had assumed that she was too. If the authorities didn’t have her on file, she was either very new at this, very lucky, or very, very good.

“I’m in ACID’s most-wanted list,” I said.

Harmony made a pffft sound. “You hardly make it into their top two-hundred.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re one-hundred-and-ninety-eight,” she said. “I’m looking at their list now. And you only rate that highly because Paulie Pickles is now behind bars.”

Her computer must have been feeding her this data, but I couldn’t see how she was doing it.

“My popularity rating is irrelevant,” I said. “The cameras will still recognise my face.”

“Wear a MASQ,” she suggested.

MASQs are tight-fitting hoods that cover your head and send out false visuals, altering the apparent spacing of your facial features – smaller nose, different mouth position, wider eye-spacing – so that you don’t match the profile that the authorities have on record for you.

“I don’t like them,” I said. “They’re claustrophobic and they smell funny.”

“Just like jail cells,” Harmony said. “But I suppose you’ve grown used to those.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve never been arrested?” I asked, sceptically.

“No, I’m saying I’ve never been arrested and placed in a jail cell.”

“You just flutter your eyelashes and they let you off with a warning?”

“Sometimes it takes a bit more than that. What? Don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say a word. Did I say anything?”

“You mean you’ve never offered yourself to a law enforcement officer?” Now she was the sceptical one.

“I have never had sex with a person in a position of authority in order to avoid imprisonment,” I said.

“That was a carefully-worded bit of avoidance,” Harmony said. “You slept with Agent Rodriguez, didn’t you?”

“That’s ridic...”

“Don’t deny it. I can tell from the way you speak about her.”

“I swore an oath never to mention it,” I said.

“Because she held a gun to your head and made you promise.”

“It wasn’t pointed at my head.”

“No wonder ACID have your details on file. She probably gave them a complete outline of your technique.”

“When she catches up with you, you can compare notes,” I said.

“She’s never going to catch me.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You probably wanted to get caught,” Harmony said. I like to think there was a hint of jealousy in her voice.

“It was an interesting weekend,” I said.

“She had you in her clutches for two whole days?”

“Three. It was a holiday weekend.”

“Is that why you two called a truce and got naked?”

Definitely jealous.

“We can’t sit here bickering all day,” I said.

“I’m not. I’m multitasking,” she said. “While you were reliving past conquests, I’ve been hacking into the spaceport’s computer network.”

“Oh,” I said. I hadn’t even been aware that she was communicating with her computer. “You have a neural link?”

“Of course,” she said. “If you had a brain, you could get one.”

“I don’t want a machine sending its icy tendrils through my grey matter.” I shuddered.

“Luddite,” she said. “I had my first implant when I was eleven.”

“I didn’t have you pegged as a computer geek,” I said.

“How do you think I made my fortune?”

“Ripping off suckers like me,” I said.

“You can’t get rich from doing that. No offense. How come you don’t have a computer?”

“I had one. Trixie. She was shot by a robot. Long story.”

“Why didn’t you just download the back-up into a new unit?”

“I was in the middle of the jungle at the time. When I got back, I had Floyd. I didn’t really miss her.” For some reason, saying this made me feel guilty – as if I’d taken up with someone new without even mourning her loss. Perhaps I should think about getting a new Trixie. But then I’d probably feel guilty about neglecting Floyd by taking up with my ex. It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. They were machines, you weren’t supposed to develop feelings for them.

“Do you miss him?” Harmony asked.

“Floyd? Yeah. I’m going to get him back. He’s special.” I had no intention of telling her what Floyd really was. She would try and steal him.

“But he’s old...” Off my look, she quickly corrected herself. “I meant vintage.”

“He’s had a few modifications under the hood,” I said. “There’s more to him than meets the eye. Except in the head department. Someone stole his head.”

“Sorry about that. There wasn’t time to open it up and take the money out.”

“At least you didn’t smash it open with a hammer.”

“Er... no.”

“You didn’t?”

Harmony wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Not exactly,” she said.

“What did you do?”

“I backed the Trekker over it.”

I had no words to respond to that. She had reversed the vehicle she stole from me over the head she’d taken from my robot. Situations like this are why I don’t like sharing my toys with other children.

“Quincy?”

“You called me a Luddite,” I said. “You’re a robot-basher.”

“I didn’t wreck your robot.”

“No, you just crushed his head under the wheel of a car.”

“I knew his brain wasn’t in it. And it isn’t like it was his proper head. It was from an old robot waiter... or a vintage one.”

“Please stop talking.”

That was a challenge she couldn’t rise to.

“I’d have thought you’d be more upset about the ten thousand dollars.”

“Dollars are easy to replace. Floyd