She brushed it away and chewed on her lower lip. The cruiser touched down, and the thrusters cut off abruptly. She watched the docking crew scurry into position, watched the light signals run their clearance pattern along the bunker wall.
She had no idea what they said, but the clones responded like a machine, leaping to secure landing gear and clear the pathway for the cruiser’s cargo to be unloaded. Hover sleds lined up neatly, waiting to accept whatever the ship brought with it. The big door at the ship’s rear cracked open and began it’s slow descent to the hangar floor.
Zora could have cared less. She pressed her body against the cool landing gear and rolled her eyes. Her contact would be off last. He’d have to make sure the rest of the crew and cargo cleared the area. She frowned and fought off the urge to storm up the ship’s ramp. She could wait. She’d survived this long without it. How hard could a few more minutes be?
She waited. By the time the clones had filled two of the hover sleds, her nails dragged little tracks in the Slug One’s landing gear. She listened to them scritch, scritch and chewed her lip again. Maybe she should board the cruiser, find her guy and get her package without delay. It was perishable after all, something awful could happen to it if she waited.
She stood up and paced the shadow’s length. She needed that package, damn it. How much freaking cargo did the ship have anyway? How important could the stupid crates be?
The whine of hydraulics spun her back around again. She slipped back to her post behind the metal pillar. The cruiser’s hatch lifted back into position, while the hover sleds tracked to the hangar exit. Clones escorted each, marching in line beside the piled crates. Perfect.
Her pulse revved up. She tensed and focused a narrow gaze on the cruiser. Her guy would be last. She’d made sure he was nobody, a mechanic or something along those lines. Something stupid. She waited while the bridge hatch popped, watched the pilot swagger down the ramp while it still extended. Stupid, but not stupid enough.
His crew followed once the plank hit bottom. Zora ignored them and kept her eyes on the hatch. A few minutes passed. The crew tailed their hot shot pilot out into the city. The lights on the hangar walls dimmed, stopped flashing and held at auxiliary.
Her gut twisted. She growled and considered storming the ship again. Who’d stop her now? She glanced back toward the Slug One’s ramp. She’d tucked her own package into the gap under the bottom, and didn’t relish the idea of hauling it back out again.
She should wait. No. She should go and fetch her contact. Wait. Go. Damn it!
Footsteps tapped across metal. She turned back to the ship. A fat guy in greasy overalls stomped down the ramp. He held a paper bag, rumpled, grease stained and more beautiful that the sunset on Cyrrus 2.
She held her breath and slid quietly back into the dark. The guy approached casually, acted like he might just walk on by before stopping to examine something imaginary on the bottom of his shoe. Zora heard him whisper.
“Is that a bug, or am I on camera?”
She smiled and slid forward. “It’s a bug,” she answered. “I’ve never seen one that big, though.”
He chuckled and sidestepped under the Slug One. “You must be Zora.”
“And that must be my package.”
She didn’t miss the guy’s grip tightening on her bag, nor did she like the look he gave her. It started at her hips and raked up to just below her shoulders.
“It must be,” he said. “But you said you’d make it worth the effort.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“So.” He looked her in the eyes for the first time. “Whatcha going to do for me, then?”
“Not what you think.” Zora grinned at him. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
She almost pulled it off, but he raised one eyebrow and snorted.
“I’m not anymore, okay?” She stomped a foot at him. He was holding her bag so tight she feared he’d squish it completely. “Look. I’ve got something better.”
“Better?”
“Well, just as good.” She waved him over to the ramp and bent down to the box she’d stashed. The damned thing weighed a ton, but she managed to wrangle it back out from hiding. She kicked it along the last few inches. “This should do the trick.”
He whistled and leaned down.
“If you squish that,” she snapped. “The deal’s off.”
He set her bag down and examined the bottles nesting in the crate. Lifting one, he read the label and let out a long whistle. Good. The guy knew fine Glow Gin when he saw it.
“Where did you get this?” He stood up and squinted at her.
“It was a gift.” In truth Iggy gave the Gin to Murray, but the smell of the stuff made Zora puke ever time her sister tried to pour a drink, and Mur finally relented and threw it out.
“Then what gives?”
“I don’t know what you mean?” Zora’s eyes fell to the bag on the hangar floor. She could smell it from where she stood. If he tried to back out on her, she just might have to kick his ass.
“This stuff,” he waved at her crate of Glow Gin. “Is worth twenty times what I’ve brought.”
“Not to me.”
“You’re nuts, Lady.” He wavered. She could see his fat brain trying to sort out some kind of trap. It hardly mattered. She’d picked the right guy. Greed would win over self-preservation every time. “But whatever. Your loss.”
“Thank you.” She nodded and bit back a catty retort.
He lifted the box, grunting, but managing far better than she had. She stepped aside, but kept her eye on him till he’d stepped away from the bag, away from her ship and back out into the open hangar. She watched until he’d reached his own ramp, until he’d scurried back inside to hide his score.
Her smile faded as soon as the hatch closed. She dove on the bag. Clutching it close to her chest, she slunk out of the shadows and dashed up the ramp into the Slug One. Her footsteps sang along the metal flooring. They beat a short path to the cargo bay, stopping long enough for her to trigger the door and slip silently into the huge space.
The lights were off. The Emperor’s people had modified the bay to carry hundreds of trays of rare Space Slug eggs, and the incubators glowed a soft blue in three lines down the room’s center. Two of the lines were full. One more day of loading and they’d be set to leave.
Whatever. She leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the cold bay floor. Her fingers tore the bag open, and the smell escaped in full force. She inhaled. Two weeks ago, it probably would have made her hurl. Amazing what two weeks could do. She pulled out a soft sphere wrapped in purple foil and grinned at it. She read the stamp along the seam, just to torture herself, just to prolong the moment—EARTH BURGER. Heaven.
She counted them—six big burgers—and sighed. So much better than Gin. She peeled back the wrapper and eyed the fat, oily sandwich. Her stomach growled, echoing through the cargo bay. She patted her belly, felt the bump that used to be her nice, tight abs and sighed again. Six burgers should be enough for one tiny baby.
She squinted at the bag again. It didn’t look like much, really. She’d have to go slow, to stretch them out until they got the hell out of Dodge and back to civilization. Or, another thought whispered, she could eat them all in one sitting. One big meal might be more satisfying, might smother the craving once and for all.
She shrugged and turned back to the wad of beef. It glistened at her, evil, delicious. “Well,” she grinned and lifted it closer. Her teeth flashed in the low light. “Hello, you sexy devil.”
Next Episode ◦
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