One of the containers I had taken from him held a thousand blasters, all with serial numbers that would prove they had been stolen. If they went out en masse, they would eventually lead the military to me and my junkyard. Despite the danger, Mateo had removed more cases of the blasters and placed them into the pile for barter. There were nineteen cases, each containing two blasters, each case also holding one multi-method charging station. Counting the case I had tossed on the truck, that made twenty cases, forty blasters.
Also lying in the dust were much bigger cases, each containing an armor suit with all the bells and whistles, and one very large box containing an armor-donning station. It was all the very latest in military equipment. Stolen military equipment.Traceablestolen military equipment.
In a separate pile were new high-quality plaz-steel military knives, and excellent quality boots which were hard to come by now that boot-making leather was so scarce due to the near extinction of cattle. There were also heat-retention blankets, ghillie suits, and vast amounts of sunscreen, which was nearly as valuable as water. No one went outside without protection from the sun. The increased radiation from the depleted atmosphere and damaged magnetosphere were directly responsible for the extinction of most animals, and the high rate of cancers. This pile was all mass-produced, desperately needed, and had no traceable serial numbers or built-in trackers that might endanger us.
It should have been heartwarming to see that Mateo had dug out and removed a great quantity of things that would not get me arrested and only a few things that would get me permanently caged. But somehow, I wasn’t feeling all warm and cozy. I’d wanted Mateo to be independent, but a Mateo who had grown obsessive over someone not in my nest was disturbing. And the fact that I was disturbed was disturbing too.
“I updated your inventory for the things I’ve pulled out,” Mateo said, his voice grating, as if responding to my unvoiced concerns by ignoring them and yet sounding belligerent at the same time. “Anything else you think we should take for trade?”
I wasn’t used to taking other people’s thoughts and feelings into consideration, but it occurred to me that because Mateo was the commanding officer of a starship—even if it was crashed in a junkyard—he had no idea what people who lived in the underbelly of normal society would really want. And we would be dealing with the underbelly of the snake.
I didn’t indicate the direction of my thoughts. Instead I said, “How many of the portable triage MBBs do we have?”
“Twelve. You want to give themmed-bays? Why?”
I’d never understand Mateo’s thought processes and military training. He would give current enemies only basic medical supplies to save themselves, yet that same thinking had always been okay with giving potentialfutureenemies weapons and ammo which could later be used against us or our allies.
I ran my fingernails against my scalp in frustration. I’d dropped my hat somewhere. My scalp was sweaty. “You want to save Evelyn or you want to bitch about mybloody damnmethods?” I growled.
“Save Evelyn.”
“So shut up, CO Sugah,” Jolene said into our comms system. “Evelyn comes first. You said it. So stop bein’ a pussy about regs and get with Shining’s program.”
“Pus—” Mateo went silent.
To forestall what could be the first raging argument in history between a commanding officer of a starship and his sentient AI, I said, “Pack up six triage med-bays and put them on the truck. Make sure at least one is programmed for, and has supplies for, helping people through the transition, and one is a vet-bay. Add in some good Berger chips. They make nice bargaining items, and they don’t kill. Keep out ten armor units and the multi-donning station. They’ll just fight over them unless we have enough for each club to get at least two suits of armor. We’ll take twelve blasters, max. That’s not enough for them to kill each other and me over, but enough to convince them I might have value other than raping and the sex trade.”
“I thought these were the good guys,” Mateo said.
“There are no good guys.” I stopped. I wasn’t sure if I believed that, but it was enough to shut Mateo up.
“Yup. I agree with Shining, CO Sugah. According to human history there ain’t many truly good guys, but the few there were made a big difference,” Jolene said. “Like Jesus and Buddah and Gandhi and such.”
“Yeah. Well,” I said. “We’re not dealing with holy men. We’ll be dealing with biker clubs. And the meeting is at one p.m. tomorrow, so let’s not screw this up by arguing or taking trade items that will bring them to our doorstep.”
“Roger that,” Mateo said.
“Fine by me, Sugah.”
“Good by me,” Cupcake said.
“Not that you asked me,” Amos added, his tone laconic, “but I want me one o’ them blasters to go with my armor. Imma look so cool Cupcake will drool all over me trying to get me out of it.”
“I can get you out of your armor in a snap, you doofus, but . . . I only need one part of you free to make me happy. You know.Happy?”
“Stop!”I shouted into my mic. “Not another word.”
Cupcake tittered. Amos chuckled, sounding lascivious. Mateo said nothing.
“Okay,” I said, changing the subject. “Cupcake, what about this new toy you mentioned at breakfast?”
“It’s a beauty,” she said. “It’s a nano detector. Jolene made it in her lab.”
“We have activity at the outer perimeter,” Mateo interrupted. “ARVACs are airborne.”
“Jagger?” Cupcake asked. “You know he’s gonna come around sometime.”
“Negative,” Mateo said, a moment later. “ARVACs indicate an old electric truck. Long bed. Traveling at a manageable thirty-two kilos an hour.”
