Starship Found, Child Missing (Alien Ship for Sale Book 1) by Miles Rozak

Author:Miles Rozak [Rozak, Miles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Megaulcite Press
Published: 2023-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I hoped Mercedes would be available, because I wanted an update.

Unstrapping, I headed back to the lounge where I found Maggie, her upturned nose and wiggling haunches telling me all I needed to know about her eagerness to get down from her seat. Clearly, she didn’t like the seat harness but had put up with it since I’d given her the command to sit and heel. Her training was too good to disobey.

She licked my face as I unhooked her, then hopped to the deck, her tail wagging, and followed me back to our cabin.

“Much better, right, girl?” I soothed.

Things were too quiet without the kid, and something about that line of thinking sent my thoughts drifting to Tess. I promised myself I wouldn’t contact her to avoid any entanglements. But was it so wrong to just want to know how she was getting along?

So much had changed since we last talked, and that seemed innocent enough, like nothing more than a common courtesy.

Checking on an acquaintance.

Thankfully, some crew on the Centurion ship had preloaded the contacts for the other survivors from Galiano Island into our quantum pads. Most of the time, I just didn’t have time for small talk. I had bigger issues to deal with, but Tess was different.

For some reason, my palms had started to sweat. If contacting her was so casual, I didn’t know why my heart was pounding. I shook my head. Must’ve been that chagra I drank earlier.

Are you okay? I texted Tess.

Yes, I found a job, she replied. And you?

I’m a bounty hunter now, en route to Sudeni Minji.

Good for you, she replied.

Well, that last part was a little short—no goodbye—and almost sarcastic, though you could never quite tell what a person was trying to insinuate over text messages.

It didn’t matter. I don’t know what I was expecting.

Looking her up in my list of contacts, I found someone who would talk to me and who might actually help. Mercedes. I think she might’ve even liked me, although I could’ve been wrong. I dialed her on my pad, and when the call connected, had to marvel at the clarity of connection across such incredible distances.

“How are you holding up?” Mercedes asked me with genuine concern when she answered.

“I’m managing. Hey, I had a question. I’ve been reading some Oshwellian poetry recently. Are you a fan?”

“I dabble,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“I wondered if you had any ideas on what a crafty lion might do to earn the trust of gazelles.”

She knew right away where I was going. “I think he’d figure out who they hated the most—because hurting them would accomplish two things. It would win the gazelles’ respect while making the savanna a bit safer for everyone else.”

“Ah,” I said. Mercedes was hardcore. I had to respect her penchant for action. “What can you tell me about the search? Found anything yet?” My gut twisted in anticipation of news—any news—anything solid, a reason to hope.

“Well,” she started slowly in that same

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