Furlough 99

 

Furlough 99: The last stop before uncharted space.

Welcome to the ass end of the universe.

The last stop before the emptiness of unknown space, Furlough 99 is inhabited with a myriad of personalities, each one looking for something different, something they can only find at the end of the line. With a bar called the Den of Inequity and a whole station devoted to pleasure and hedonism, there's nothing that can't be found here.

Shyler: Finding Home

Inspector Shyler Lumen and entrepreneur Marshton Gray don't have much in common. A manhunt for a brilliantly mad chemist brings them together and sparks fly. Shyler and Marsh can fight the wave of change … or grab hold and go along for the ride.

Excerpt:

Shyler elbowed her way out of the transport and ran through her mental checklist. First, she had to find out who to cajole, threaten, or bribe to be able to work in relative peace or at least not step on toes. Second, find a place to meet, and third, well, she needed to take care of the first two before worrying about number three. She glanced around, found a porter and flagged him down.

"Can you tell me who runs security—not the official kind—on Furlough and where the best place to meet would be?" As he got closer, Shyler realized he was a droid, very lifelike, but a machine nonetheless. "And um … maybe how I can get a message to them?"

Droids always threw her. She never knew if they had to have commands or if simple conversations were possible. And of course it always varied by model.

The blond machine's eyes blinked several times then looked directly at her. "Oh, they'll find you, sweetie cakes. Trust me."

Shyler couldn't help it; she laughed out loud. And felt much more at ease. An android who talked like a flaming queen? Exactly what she needed to feel more at home.

Her outburst stopped a gentleman on the glide path in his tracks. She flicked her gaze sideways and narrowed her eyes. She'd seen him before but couldn't place where. The answer hovered just out of reach, yet she knew he'd come from Mars, the rock she called home.

He had to be from Queen City, the largest metropolis on the red planet. 4.5 million souls strewn throughout—from the swank, high end condos down to the no rent tent squats—and she ran into one of them way out on Furlough?

Interesting.

Dismissing him, Shyler focused on the droid again. "I'm sorry. They'll find me?"

The porter shocked her again when he rolled his eyes. "Sweetie cakes, you've got enforcement written all over you." He made air quotes to emphasis enforcement.

Shyler chuckled. "I'm not enforcement per se. More like ISP. And I'm not exactly trying to hide it. Don't have the time to waste going covert." The guy from home moved away slowly, maybe too slowly, and it piqued her curiosity.

Tall, dark, and quite gorgeous if one went for the type. And maybe a little too nosy for his own good. She watched until he finally moved out of sight.

The patient droid waited until she made eye contact with it before speaking again. "Hmm … Inter-Stellar Police. You're right, not exactly total enforcement. At least not the kind we used to have around here. You guys at least provide trials for the accused." The droid's face went flat with what appeared to be a bad memory.

Shyler shook off the weird feeling. Droids couldn't have memories, could they?

She got back to business. "Give me a public place that has privacy so I can park it until the security people find me."

"You'll want the Den." At her raised eyebrow, he clarified. "Den of Iniquity … the bar up on level four. Ask for Varina, she'll point you to a place you can park it."

"Right. Thanks."

Spider Smith, techno geek extraordinaire, meets his match when master thief Hailey Webb needs his expertise. When her carefully planned escape from a life of crime goes awry, Spider wants to help, but with his team out of commission, Spider has to fight the battle on his own.

Excerpt:

"We'll see if there's a nice bounty on one Hailey Webb's head. The guys'll like that. It's been a quiet week." His fingers flew over the keys.

Hailey snorted. "Whatever, dude. I could save you time and tell you there's not."

Spider paused, moving the microphone down. "You didn't have time to delete yourself. No way."

Hailey's lips quirked. "Listen, I hate to break it to you, but I could work circles around you."

Spider scoffed. "I don't think so. Your work is sloppy, messy, and amateur." Even if it took him way too long to figure out the game.

Hailey rose from the chair and moved in on Spider. "Hey, dumbass. Do you have any idea how hard it is to fuck code up in just the right way to alert the super genius security guy"—she poked him in the chest—"that would be you…" Her hand fell away and she rambled on. "But not clue in the above average intelligent crew breathing down the back of my neck?"

Spider blinked and his shoulders slumped. "Shit." It would take a fuck ton of talent and finesse.

She smirked. "Damn straight, you moron. The shit's pretty deep on my end now and someone just dropped me in it, neck high." She pinned him with her gaze. "Again, that would be you."

Because he'd caught her sooner than she wanted.

Spider heaved a sigh. "Shit."

Hailey shook her head. "You know, for a brilliantly smart guy, your vocabulary is hugely lacking." She paced back and forth. "No way you're gonna be the one to cover my ass. I'm pretty much a walking ghost right now."

Only a true pro could purposefully screw up the code enough to ping him but not alert the crew she ran with. Hell, she might be better than him.

Stunned at her skill, Spider finally got his brain to kick in. "Look, this is salvageable."

Hailey spun around. "Really? How?"