Artemis

“Well, I’ve got one evening a week to change your mind.” He smiled at me. Smug little fucker. “So why’d you do the harvester job?”

“Trond was going to pay me a big pile of money.”

“Yeah, but…” He looked pensive. “I mean, it’s not your style. It was risky—and you’re really smart. You don’t take risks unless you have to. You’re not desperate for cash or anything, so far as I know. I mean, yeah, you’re poor. But you’re stable. Do you owe loan sharks or something?”

“No.”

“Gambling debt?” he asked.

“No. Stop it.”

“Come on, Jazz.” He leaned in. “What’s the deal? This doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Doesn’t have to make sense to you.” I checked my Gizmo. “We have three hours and fifty-two minutes left until midnight, by the way. Then it won’t be ‘evening’ anymore.”

“Then I’m just going to spend three hours and fifty-two minutes asking the same question.”

Pain in my ass…I sighed. “I need 416,922 slugs.”

“That’s…a very specific number. Why do you need it?”

“Because fuck you, that’s why.”

“Jazz—”

“No!” I snapped. “That’s all you’re getting.”

Awkward silence.

“How’s Tyler?” I asked. “Is he…I don’t know. Is he happy?”

“Yeah, he’s happy,” said Dale. “We have our ups and downs like any couple, but we work at it. Lately he’s frustrated with the Electricians’ Guild.”

I snickered. “He’s always hated those fuckers. Is he still non-guild?”

“Oh, of course. He’ll never join. He’s a very good electrician. Why would he go out of his way to get paid less?”

“Are they squeezing him?” I asked. One of the downsides of having almost no laws: monopolies and pressure tactics.

Dale seesawed his hand. “A little. Some rumormongering and deliberate price undercutting. Nothing he can’t handle.”

“If they go too far let me know,” I said.

“What would you do?”

“Dunno. But I don’t want anyone fucking with him.”

Dale held up his glass. “Then I pity anyone who fucks with him.”

I clinked my glass against his and we both took a sip.

“Keep him happy,” I said.

“I’ll sure as hell try.”

My Harpreet Gizmo buzzed. I pulled it out to take a look. It was a message from Svoboda: “This ZAFO shit is amazing. Meet me at my lab.”

“Just a sec,” I said to Dale. I typed out a response.