Rebel (Rebel Stars Book 0) by Edward W. Robertson
Authors: Edward W. Robertson
Tags: Nightmare
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many things—maybe all things—there is no meaning attached."
Rada laughed, jarring loose a final pair of tears. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"
"You shouldn't feel guilt for surviving," he said. "The only people who are guilty are the ones who killed your friends."
In Rada's experience, consoling advice was about as useful as a spherical dinner plate. Yet she got to her bunk feeling lighter. More…defined. As if she'd been a block of raw marble that a sculptor had chiseled down to reveal the true figure within.
She couldn't erase her feelings. She could no longer afford to numb them with pig. They were what they were—yet she couldn't let them control her, either. Not just yet.
Not when it was time to find out who had killed her friends.
~
They made port at Skylon. Prior to arrival, Simm had arranged for the record to note that she had been delivered by another vessel that landed shortly after the Tine . This, he'd tacitly admitted, had required some hefty bribes. Before installing her in the cargo box to be delivered to the other ship, he gave her the contact for the Tine .
"Intending to stick around?" she said.
He turned down the corners of his mouth. "I intend to do whatever Toman tells me. Good luck."
She climbed in the box and let herself be delivered. Inside the port, Skylon smelled as acidic as always. Rada crossed the transparent floor to the elevators without looking down.
She wore a hat and UV-blocking glasses. Even so, she felt exposed. If Rigel spotted her, she expected she'd be kidnapped. Taken somewhere quiet and never heard from again. Her first appointment was with an off-the-record cham in the middle levels. Generally, there wasn't a lot of dirt on habitats, yet the level did its best to be grungy. Two-story buildings filled all available space between the floor and the ceiling. Steady pedestrian traffic flowed down the tight streets. Rada felt like she was holding her breath all the way to the cham's.
She didn't go all-out. Just enough mods to throw off photo recognition: a bump to the bridge of her nose; ears pinned back a few degrees; a thicker jawline; green lenses for her eyes. After, the chameleon gave her a mirror to inspect herself. All of the mods were temporary injections or sculpts that wouldn't last long, but the face in the mirror was startling, uncanny. She couldn't tell if it was good or bad.
The cham let her grab a quick nap in the recovery room while the machines smoothed her face. Rada got up at six PM station time. Perfect time to hit the bars. The machines had eliminated her swelling and discoloration. She tossed her hat and shades and headed up to the level that housed Shine.
The elevator doors opened on the tree-lined plaza. Rada took a deep breath and stepped out. As she strode past the men on the benches, most of them gave her a look, but it was typical ogling. None gave any sign that her face looked out of sorts.
She believed her initial encounter with Rigel had been accidental. That he'd overheard them boasting about their upcoming riches, ID'd each member of the crew, and homed in on her, using her job ambitions as a point of entry. It could be his entire methodology was to slouch around bars waiting for drunken miners, salvagers, and shippers to mention something they shouldn't. If he was a predator, this was his feeding ground—and she doubted he'd left it.
On her way to Shine, she stopped at each bar she passed. In those with few patrons, she took a quick look around, as if searching for a friend. In the ones that were packed, she ordered a club soda, sipping steadily as she scanned the crowds.
At first, she felt invigorated, shark-like. But as the hours dripped by, her enthusiasm faded. In time, she wound up at the Shine and camped out there for three hours. A few men approached her. She brushed them off, annoyed by the distraction. Everyone was so loud, so crude, so out of their minds they couldn't understand how obnoxious they were. By four
Rada laughed, jarring loose a final pair of tears. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"
"You shouldn't feel guilt for surviving," he said. "The only people who are guilty are the ones who killed your friends."
In Rada's experience, consoling advice was about as useful as a spherical dinner plate. Yet she got to her bunk feeling lighter. More…defined. As if she'd been a block of raw marble that a sculptor had chiseled down to reveal the true figure within.
She couldn't erase her feelings. She could no longer afford to numb them with pig. They were what they were—yet she couldn't let them control her, either. Not just yet.
Not when it was time to find out who had killed her friends.
~
They made port at Skylon. Prior to arrival, Simm had arranged for the record to note that she had been delivered by another vessel that landed shortly after the Tine . This, he'd tacitly admitted, had required some hefty bribes. Before installing her in the cargo box to be delivered to the other ship, he gave her the contact for the Tine .
"Intending to stick around?" she said.
He turned down the corners of his mouth. "I intend to do whatever Toman tells me. Good luck."
She climbed in the box and let herself be delivered. Inside the port, Skylon smelled as acidic as always. Rada crossed the transparent floor to the elevators without looking down.
She wore a hat and UV-blocking glasses. Even so, she felt exposed. If Rigel spotted her, she expected she'd be kidnapped. Taken somewhere quiet and never heard from again. Her first appointment was with an off-the-record cham in the middle levels. Generally, there wasn't a lot of dirt on habitats, yet the level did its best to be grungy. Two-story buildings filled all available space between the floor and the ceiling. Steady pedestrian traffic flowed down the tight streets. Rada felt like she was holding her breath all the way to the cham's.
She didn't go all-out. Just enough mods to throw off photo recognition: a bump to the bridge of her nose; ears pinned back a few degrees; a thicker jawline; green lenses for her eyes. After, the chameleon gave her a mirror to inspect herself. All of the mods were temporary injections or sculpts that wouldn't last long, but the face in the mirror was startling, uncanny. She couldn't tell if it was good or bad.
The cham let her grab a quick nap in the recovery room while the machines smoothed her face. Rada got up at six PM station time. Perfect time to hit the bars. The machines had eliminated her swelling and discoloration. She tossed her hat and shades and headed up to the level that housed Shine.
The elevator doors opened on the tree-lined plaza. Rada took a deep breath and stepped out. As she strode past the men on the benches, most of them gave her a look, but it was typical ogling. None gave any sign that her face looked out of sorts.
She believed her initial encounter with Rigel had been accidental. That he'd overheard them boasting about their upcoming riches, ID'd each member of the crew, and homed in on her, using her job ambitions as a point of entry. It could be his entire methodology was to slouch around bars waiting for drunken miners, salvagers, and shippers to mention something they shouldn't. If he was a predator, this was his feeding ground—and she doubted he'd left it.
On her way to Shine, she stopped at each bar she passed. In those with few patrons, she took a quick look around, as if searching for a friend. In the ones that were packed, she ordered a club soda, sipping steadily as she scanned the crowds.
At first, she felt invigorated, shark-like. But as the hours dripped by, her enthusiasm faded. In time, she wound up at the Shine and camped out there for three hours. A few men approached her. She brushed them off, annoyed by the distraction. Everyone was so loud, so crude, so out of their minds they couldn't understand how obnoxious they were. By four
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