Space Wrangler (5 page)

The golden glow of sympathy in her eyes transfixed him, and he could barely manage to insist, “It's fine.”

“No it isn't.” She shifted her hand to his shirtfront. “I'll never understand why some of us are asked to bear so much death and loneliness. Especially you. I know you're tough, but still, it's unfair.”

The last thing Rick wanted was sympathy, but her warmth—emotional and physical—seduced him. And while it felt amazingly good, he was grateful when TJ put a quick end to it by saying, “Did you two want to be alone?”

Alexia huffed. “Grow a conscience, would you? We're having a beautiful moment.”

Before anyone could react, she turned to the dining table, which was laden with covered dishes, and sniffed appreciatively. “Cheese enchiladas?”

TJ nodded. “Just like your grandma used to make. Are they still your favorite?”

“Yum, all is forgiven,” she assured him. Then she gave Rick a reassuring wink. “You've never tasted anything like this in your life, I promise.”

For the next hour, he listened in annoyed silence as TJ and Alexia reminisced. Stories about Trent; about Trent and TJ; about Trent and Alexia; and of course, about Alexia and TJ, although the infamous hand job wasn't mentioned.

Only two things kept him from fleeing the scene—the enchiladas and Alexia's meringue-coated chest.

He wasn't sure which was more mouth-watering, especially when she gestured wildly to illustrate her stories, punctuating them with her breasts. It made him appreciate the bio-girls, mostly because they wouldn't tease a guy like this. If one of
them
were wearing that provocative outfit, she'd already be in Rick's lap.

Still, the food at the Trading Post couldn't rival these enchiladas. Warm, stretchy cheese peppered with spicy green chilies, wrapped in flaky flour tortillas and smothered in a garlicky sauce—better than anything he had tasted this side of the sinkhole. He usually opted for a steak dinner when in dock, considering it a sensory miracle compared to the powdered eggs and milk, chicken jerky and assorted dried vegetables that made up the bulk of his diet for months at a time.

And so he concentrated on the meal while trying to screen out the chatter. Not that he wouldn't appreciate a glimpse or two into the background that had produced the formidable Montoya clan. But Alexia and TJ weren't providing that sort of information. Rather, they were talking in code, so that “Remember the time Trent broke his arm?” produced a gale of laughter, and “Dad and his alarm system, right?” made the duo roll their eyes in tribute to some anecdote that resonated with them as much as it frustrated Rick.

So what was he doing here instead of at the brothel? If only Sensie were able to hear this conversation, she'd be savvy enough to send a fake distress message so he could leave. But the range of her audio sensors, while broad, couldn't penetrate walls. Had they been dining on the balcony, things would be different. But as it stood, he was on his own.

Just when he was ready to invent an excuse to bolt, Alexia stood up and asked, “Is it just me? Or is it
roasting
in here?” Then she stripped off her jacket and sat back down, her golden-brown shoulders completely exposed.

No way was he leaving now. Sure, it was torture, but too good to pass up.

Then she turned to him, her eyes dancing with mischief. “TJ says you prefer sex with bio-girls instead of real dates. Is that true?”

He cleared his throat. “I wouldn't say I prefer it. It's just less complicated.”

TJ grinned. “You sound like Trent. He used to say sex was like food and shelter. It could be great, but as long as it was good enough, he wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.”

Alexia's eyes narrowed. “You guys are so unromantic.”

“Not me,” TJ protested. “I'm a born lover. It's Rick and Trent who think quickies are better.”

“Not better,” Rick said, his tone unintentionally harsh. “Just simpler.”

Alexia gave TJ a teasing glare. “Don't make him mad. He's armed, remember? Or at least—” her gaze shifted toward the far side of the room, “—the
coat rack
is armed.”

Rick relaxed a bit, amused that she had noticed his jacket and gun belt. If anything, she seemed to blame TJ for the fact he wasn't actually wearing them, which was fine with him.

Alexia turned her attention back to Rick. “Tell me why you call yourself a wrangler. I like it—don't get me wrong—but you're really more of a salvager, right? Finding old space debris that contains bio-metal, and then selling it so it can be recycled?”

“A salvager?” he asked, still distracted by the sizzling heat of her golden-brown skin. “That's—well, that's wrong.” Squaring his shoulders, he added more forcefully, “I'm a wrangler because I go after space metal that fights back. Not lifeless pieces of junk.”

“I thought the Destroyers got rid of everything that moved. Except the Titans, of course.”

Before he could respond, she continued. “Do you have a theory why they left the Titans intact? Trent thought maybe they actually
couldn't
turn them off or destroy them. Not completely, at least. So they disconnected the brains, but preserved minimum functioning. That's why they trudge in circles.”

Rick shrugged. “Either they couldn't destroy them, or they couldn't bring themselves to do it. It's a funny thing, right? Half machine, half living creature. So destroying them would be equivalent to taking a life.”

TJ exhaled in disgust. “Most of the Destry buildings and machines contained bio-metal, but that didn't stop the Destroyers from demolishing
them
. I think it was more—much more—than that. There was something unique about the Titans beyond the fact that they were animate.”

“Have you seen them up close?” Alexia asked Rick.

“Yeah, they're amazing. I saw pictures and videos before I came through the sinkhole, but man—they didn't do them justice. And not just their size either, although they're effing huge. And lifelike even though they're brain-dead.” Regretting the wistful tone, he grinned. “Anyway, I'm not crazy enough to wrangle
them
. But I'm sure your brother told you about the flying robots that protect them. We call them ‘thugs', and they swoop in when they sense danger to the Titans. They're formidable, but stupid. And since they contain bio-metal, they're worth a lot. So when they show up, we lasso them.”

Her golden eyes were shining. “I forgot about the thugs. The Destroyers didn't annihilate them either. Is that another example of their respect for life?”

“I doubt it. Thugs are single-purpose machines, not complex beings.” He glanced toward his employer to make sure he didn't want to take over. But TJ nodded, so he continued. “There's a third class of robots that wasn't deactivated either. We call them infodroids. You might not have heard about them, since they weren't discovered until after your brother went missing.”

“Infodroids?”

“We think the Destroyers used them to gather data throughout the solar system and feed it back to the main computers on the planet. When the Destroyers abandoned Destry, they just left the droids up there. It was probably too much trouble to bring them all back.”

“So they're still gathering information?”

“Yeah. And in some ways, they're the real prize. But the thugs protect
them
too, which makes it tricky when you try to wrangle one.”

“But you want to wrangle them because they've got a lot of biotanium?” she guessed. “That's what makes them such a prize?”

TJ spoke up to correct her. “Sea-Mont pays a premium for infodroids because we want the data stored in their memory banks. It's virtually priceless. But apparently they're tough to catch because—like Rick said—they send a signal to the thugs as soon as they're threatened, so the wranglers have their hands full. We think there are around five hundred infodroids in existence, but so far, we've only gotten sixty. And of those, I'll bet Rick brought in at least fifty.”

“Fifty-eight,” Rick corrected him, then he kicked himself mentally. Showing off for Alexia Montoya? Just because her skin looked so touchable and her breasts were covered with whipped cream?

TJ gave a curt nod. “That sounds right. Like I said, Rick's our best wrangler. The others go for the low-hanging fruit. The thugs. But
he
brings us data to feed into the Sea-Mont Prototype.”

“My brother's computer,” Alexia said with a wistful smile.

“Actually, it belongs to the company. But yes…” TJ's tone softened. “Trent outdid himself with that project. You have a right to feel proud.”

“And entitled,” she reminded him. Then she turned back to Rick. “TJ says you have an amazing computer yourself. Not fully sentient, obviously. But still pretty impressive.”

Rick's jaw tightened as it always did when the conversation turned to Sensie. The rest of the world believed she was “almost” fully sentient, and he needed to encourage that rumor. Because if anyone—on either side of the sinkhole—suspected she was
fully
sentient, they'd hunt down the
Drifter
and confiscate Sensie for sure.

So all he said was, “She's great. You'd be impressed.”

“He talks about her like she's a real girl,” TJ insisted with a grin. “But
almost
sentient doesn't cut it. Right, Lexie?”

Rick's jaw tensed again when Alexia's cheeks reddened. Apparently this was some sort of inside joke that was actually an inside insult.

Then she locked gazes with Rick and explained. “I keep hitting dead ends in my search for Trent. So I'd like to run the relevant data through one of the sentient prototypes. But TJ's father blocked my access to the one at NASA, and unless TJ grows a pair, I won't be able to use the Sea-Mont one either. Even though—”

“Even though your sainted brother invented it,” TJ finished for her. “We know, we know. And I'll do my best, but you've got to remember, I don't own the company. Not even forty-five percent of it. I run it for Dad, and he always has the final say.” His tone softened again. “But you know I'll do my best.”

“Thanks.”

“And if all else fails, you're welcome to use Sensie,” Rick told her quietly. “Like I said, you'd be surprised how sentient she is.”

Alexia smiled. “That's sweet, and I'm sure she's amazing. But I have an ‘almost' of my own. We built it to search for Trent, and trust me, we spared no expense. It just can't handle the kind of intuitive scenarios I'm desperate to run.” Her smile turned playful. “I guess I should have given mine a name—
and
a gender. Maybe I'll do that when I get home. Sensie stands for Sentient, so I'll make mine a boy and call him Sentor. Then they can link up and have a cyber affair.”

Rick chuckled. “Sensie would
not
be amused by that analogy.”

“I don't blame her.” After a moment of hesitation, Alexia surprised him by reaching out and covering his hand with her own. “Will you take me to see the Titans, Rick?”

“Huh?”

“I want to see them. With my own eyes, just like you said. The three of us can go tomorrow, can't we? It would be fun.”

“Count me out,” TJ muttered. “I hate traveling in those anti-compression tubes, and I already did it twice this month. Maybe next quarter you can come with me for my routine visit.”

“I can't wait that long. And the anti-compression tubes don't bother me a bit. I slept like a baby on the flight to the sinkhole.”

“Then Rick can take you. I'll amend the contract—”

“It's too dangerous,” Rick interrupted firmly. “Just forget about it. No one goes there.”

“
You
do,” Alexia reminded him. “You said so yourself.”

“We could run into thugs—”

“So fight them off! Isn't that what you do for a living? And you're the best. TJ said so.”

Rick scowled. “It's out of the question.”

“I'll pay you. A lot.”

“It's not about money.” He gave TJ a frustrated glare. “
Talk
to her.”

“I'm not getting in the middle of this,” TJ said with a chuckle. “Just get it over with. One quick pass near the trudging fields—”

“No, I want to touch one,” Alexia insisted. “That's the whole point. Right, Rick?”

He felt the world spinning into crazy. “You can't touch one, Ms. Montoya. The air on the planet is poisonous and the Titans are coated with it.”

“Have
you
touched one?”

He winced.

“See? It's perfectly safe. I'll wash my hand right afterward.”

“You'll wear a glove.”

“Did
you
wear a glove?”

TJ flashed him a sympathetic grin. “You're losing ground, buddy. Better quit while you're ahead.”

“This is nuts.” Rick slid his chair away from the table in noisy but useless protest, “We'll go. But on
my
terms. Which means we won't get too close. And
no
touching. If we stay on the perimeter, the thugs might not notice.”

“But if they do, you'll wrangle them. And I'll help,” Alexia said cheerfully. “Maybe you'll even make some extra money off them.”

“It's not about the money—” he repeated, then he growled in defeat and moved to the coat rack to retrieve his belongings. “Come on, I'll walk you home. We'll need to get an early start tomorrow.”

“I'll make sure she gets home safely,” TJ assured him.

Rick stood his ground. “With your father's goons out there? And the dome lights dimmed? I don't think so.”

“I told you, she's safe.”

Alexia offered a reassuring smile. “Thanks for the offer, cowboy, but I'll be fine. I promise.”