Destiny's Song (The Fixers, book #1: A KarmaCorp Novel) (13 page)

Someday, she would walk in my shoes and feel the hard for herself. But not today. “KarmaCorp has lots of really smart people who help us know what to do.”

She nodded, a child who still trusted the advisers in her world to be sane and good and right. And a child who would one day be a mighty tool for those trying to act on the side of good in the universe.

Just like I was. I bowed my head, acknowledging the crooked lines and the message I’d just been sent.

Destiny wasn’t mine to make—it was mine to work in service of. Rebel demon child I might be, but I wanted to be proud of myself when I woke up and looked in the mirror. Or when I looked into the eyes of seven-year-olds who someday wanted to be me.

I was here to help sway two good people toward serving the highest good. A whole pile of KarmaCorp bigwigs would have blessed this mission before I got assigned to it, and I had no more business questioning it than Malia did. I was a Singer, not an Anthro or a StarReader or a boss lady. It wasn’t my job to understand the importance or rightness of the assignment I’d been given—it was just my job to do it. To trust that I was making a difference that mattered.

Even if it made my heart scream.

A
lways go out with a bang
. I’d grown up in a place that took that sentiment pretty literally, but I figured it applied elsewhere too.

I’d run my mission here into a mountain of rock more times than I could count, but I was done hiding in shadows. Which was good, because the ballroom sprawled out below me was dazzlingly well lit. Glow bulbs and firefly lights floated above food-laden tables and a dance floor that looked to be filled with half the population of Bromelain III.

“Well hello, Singer.”

I turned and spied the owner of the voice behind me, lounging against a wall. “Shouldn’t you be down there dancing?”

“There will be time.” Tameka regarded my outfit and raised a wry eyebrow. “If you think that’s going to dissuade Devan Lovatt and do your work for you, you’ve seriously misjudged him.”

I hadn’t dressed for him. I’d dressed for me. Lace-up miner boots, black leather fingerless gloves, and a short, tight dress crisscrossed in synth-leather and grommets and not much else. Hair in a braid that would have screamed “looking for a fight” in any bar on any mining asteroid in the galaxy, and around my neck, the gold retro headphones that traveled with me everywhere and normally never saw the light of day.

Digger-chick regalia to the max, and badass, every inch. Not remotely appropriate attire for this event, and I didn’t care. I needed to do what KarmaCorp had sent me to do—but I could darn well do it Lakisha Drinkwater style. “I wasn’t aware there was a dress code.”

“There isn’t.” The old Fixer’s lips quirked. “Feeling prickly, are you?”

Apparently. I touched my hands to the headphones around my neck. They were the first thing I’d bought with the first Commonwealth credits I’d ever made. I’d been sixteen and dumb, and I still adored the hell out of them.

Tameka was watching my hands and smiling softly. “My grandmother used to own a pair of those.”

I had zero interest in making small talk, but I also had an annoying fondness for the old woman trying to engage me in it. “She was a Singer?”

“No. A generator mechanic. Said they were the best ear protection out there.”

There were a bunch of drill operators I knew who agreed with her.

She stepped away from the wall. “Go, girl. Make your impression.” Her smile was full of mystery this time. “And do yourself a favor.”

She was the last person on earth I wanted advice from in this moment. “And what would that be?”

“Listen to the impression you actually make.”

I gave her a glare that even I knew seriously lacked in maturity, and then headed down the long, sweeping staircase into the ballroom. Every step I took drummed in the fact that miner boots weren’t the normal footwear gracing these treads. Judging from what I could see below, attire here ran to fancy, sparkly, and dainty as hell.

Good. It was time we all remembered I didn’t belong here.

“Singer.” If the man who normally handled affairs in the Lovatts’ breakfast room was at all surprised by my appearance, he hid it well. “The Inheritor Elect bids you welcome.”

I didn’t stop to talk—especially about the Inheritor Elect. Whatever Devan’s plans might be for this evening of his, I was here to work. I made my way through the ballroom, Fixer antennae on high alert. Brushing the edges of gatherings, reading, analyzing. Looking for any last leverage to do the job I’d been sent to do.

Always go out with a bang.

By the time I’d reached the other side of the ballroom, my bang had turned into a whimper. No signs of leverage—and I’d misjudged the entire damn planet. Half the people here had interrupted their night to say hello, and the commentary on my outfit had been complimentary to the last word.

A planet of individualists, attracted to one who had dared to be individual. Not remotely what I’d intended, and not the ideal vibe for a woman who’d come here to finally be a decent cog, but it was too freaking late to go change. And it probably wasn’t all that reasonable to be mad at a whole colony for being friendly. I clomped in my miner boots, clutched my headphones, damned Tameka for being right, and made do.

“You look ready to chew nails.”

I scowled at Janelle, gliding along a sparkling gold rug my direction. “I’m hungry, that’s all.”

She looped a silk-clad hand through my elbow. “Food’s this way.”

I looked at our conjoined arms and tried not to be amused. “That’s quite the outfit.” Hers flowed from a snug blue sleeveless top down into layers of shimmering, almost translucent floor-length skirt. A far cry from the woman on horseback. Intergalactic royalty hanging out with the digger-rock brat.

She followed my gaze. “What, you don’t like blue?”

It was gorgeous, and if it were mine, I’d probably never take it off. I sighed and let some of my cranky go. “It’s really pretty—it’s just not what I expected to see you wearing.”

“I could say the same.” She grinned and looked down. “I’m totally stealing those boots the next time you’re not looking.”

It so wasn’t the night for friendship to be sneaking in my cracks—and yet I had no idea how to resist. “They’re the height of miner fashion.” And she could have traded her dress for about a million pairs of them.

She tugged us sideways into a break in the traffic around one of the immensely loaded food tables. “Chocolate first, or real food?”

Chocolate was real food. However, I’d spied something far harder to get on Stardust Prime. “Bacon, then chocolate.”

The sound that came out of Janelle was almost a giggle. “I think you’re an addict.”

“Guilty.” And determined to indulge the only one of my cravings that seemed safe.

“Here.” She handed me two bowls and reached a ladle toward a pot of beautiful hammered copper. “These are baked apples. We’ll put some of the bacon on these, and some of the cheese from that plate over there, and then we’ll go hide so nobody steals our bounty.”

I stood still and acted as a serving tray while she filled two bowls with steaming apples. They smelled like butter and cinnamon, and it was all I could do not to plop myself in face first.

This planet knew how to throw a punch.

Janelle peeled off her gloves and reached for two long slices of bacon, crumbling them on top of the apples. It didn’t dim the sense of galactic royalty at all.

“You’ll want cheese on that,” said a woman I didn’t know, dressed in a flowing sheath of gold and purple and holding out a plate mounded high in bright yellow shredded stuff.

“Thanks, Auntie D.” Janelle swooped down on the cheese and dropped a kiss on the cheek of its bearer. “It’s yours, yes?”

“Straight out of the curing cave this morning.”

Janelle added huge handfuls to the top of each of the bowls I held. My stomach let loose a growl loud enough to be heard in the next quadrant.

Auntie D laughed and set the cheese plate down again. “You both look lovely tonight. It’s nice to see you enjoying your evening, Singer.”

I blinked, shocked to discover that in this moment, I actually was. “Thank you. And apparently, my stomach thanks you too. The cheese smells wonderful.” Tee’s family made cheese for very special occasions, but it was soft and fresh. This had a tang that reminded me oddly of rocks, in the best possible way.

She chuckled and dropped a spoon in each bowl. “It tastes even better. Go eat, before the masses realize they’re hungry.”

Janelle grinned and motioned with her head, leading me off to a spot in the shadows. I followed, suddenly grateful for a moment to hide.

She took one of the bowls from my hand and toasted me with it. “Food of the gods.”

I picked up my spoon, appropriately reverent and suddenly starving—and had to struggle to keep my knees from buckling as I slid in the first bite and nearly drowned in cinnamon-buttered, bacon-topped bliss.

Janelle laughed at my appreciative hum and talked around her own mouthful. “My sister says it’s better than sex.”

Her sister was right, and I’d had some pretty good sex.

A hand reached around me and tugged on Janelle’s hair. “You obviously need to pick better partners.”

I turned, nerves totally shot—and nearly landed my apples in Devan’s chest.

He was dressed in midnight-blue silk and leather that should have looked as ridiculous as my outfit—and gave him the vibe of a wandering galactic bard instead.

A really sexy bard. My nose yearned to cross the final inches and bury itself in blue silk and the smell of him.

I was losing this bar fight. Badly.

He backed up half a step and looked at me carefully. “Hello.” One word, his eyes saying dozens more.

I couldn’t deal with any of them. “I’m probably supposed to thank you for putting on this shindig in my honor.”

Janelle swallowed a choking laugh beside me.

Amusement joined whatever else Devan’s eyes were saying. “Probably.”

No one got to laugh at me tonight, especially these two. “I don’t like being manipulated.” Especially when I had no idea what he was up to.

“That’s an interesting statement from a Fixer.” Steel now, and not a small dose of it.

Every digger-rock cell I possessed fired up. And then froze as Devan got wrapped in purple-and-gold exuberance.

“There’s my beautiful boy.” The woman I knew only as Auntie D kissed Devan thoroughly and patted his cheek. “You’ve been hiding—I haven’t been able to find you all night.” She reached into her copious bag and pulled out a thick, round package. “I brought some of your favorite.”

His eyes softened. “Thank you. Nobody makes cheese like you do.”

“Of course they don’t.” She patted his cheek, delighted. “Let’s go put it into your cellar. You know it doesn’t like to be out of a nice chill, and it’s been in my bag for hours now.”

Janelle’s choking laugh had started up again.

I watched, bemused and still sparking, as the man who would one day rule this planet sent me a rueful, laden glance and walked off to help a woman who clearly adored him—and thought he was five—tuck away a round of cheese. I could hardly stand the lump in my heart.

“Well.” Janelle cleared her throat beside me. “That was interesting.”

I shoveled in a huge spoonful of warm apples. They tasted like sawdust.

“Kish.” Her voice was as gentle as I’d ever heard it.

“He’s meant to be yours.” My words sounded like they came from someplace very far away.

“Like hell he is.”

I could feel the window for me to complete my mission clanging shut. “It could work. You like him.”

“Not really.”

The warm apples in my belly rolled over hard, and I just wanted to scream. “Don’t freaking lie to a Singer—it doesn’t work.”

“I’m not lying.” Her eyes flashed blue fire. “I’d started sniffing around that gate, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t walk through every gate I sniff at, and I don’t need to walk through this one.” She paused a beat, her gaze never wavering. “I think you do.”

Her words were a fist to my already battered gut.

Janelle gave a disgusted grunt and steered us into a quiet corner. “If I wasn’t such an idiot, I’d have figured it out a lot sooner.”

“You would
not
have.” I might have blown the hell out of this assignment, but I knew how to keep my damn feelings under wraps.

She looked at me again, and her eyes softened. “It’s written all over your face, Kish.”

I closed my eyes, utterly naked and defeated. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

Her obvious confusion yanked my eyes back open. “Because it’s impossible. Because he’s supposed to be yours. Because I came here with a job to do and I’m not sure I could have blown it more ways if I tried.”

She shrugged. “So you screwed up. Life goes on.”

It wasn’t nearly that simple. “The things we get sent to do matter. They’re like the butterfly wings that flap and make a thunderstorm calm down on the other side of the quadrant.” Little levers to do big work.

Janelle chuckled. “Do all Fixers have such big egos?”

I wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or infuriated that she still wasn’t getting it. “
We’re
not important, but what we
do
is.”

“Fine. You work for a company that has a big ego,” she said wryly. “I get that you folks in the inner planets take all that stuff pretty seriously, but out here we know that life happens and it doesn’t always go the way you planned.”

I didn’t punch her nose. Barely. “Did you just call me a dumb flatlander?”

She raised a sharp eyebrow. “Do I need to? You like a guy. Since when is that reason to act like an idiot and stand here spouting stupid lines about the fate of the galaxy?”

I bowed my head, KarmaCorp ideals at serious war with the siren song my heart wanted so badly to believe. “Neither of us know what will happen if you and Devan don’t connect. There could be ripples all over the universe.” StarReaders didn’t get involved otherwise.

She shrugged. “We won’t die if the Federation rejects us, and everyone on Bromelain III can take care of themselves. It’s not my job to keep the whole damn ocean smooth.”

I felt the weight, so heavy I could barely breathe. “That pretty much
is
my job.”

“Bleeding hell.” She reached out and grabbed my hand. “I refuse to let any friend of mine sound like a flatlander with a really swollen head. Come on.”

I planted my feet as well as two miner boots could plant. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are.” Her eyes were flashing blue fire again as she gave my arm a good tug. “We’re going to solve this problem the smart way.”

I looked at her fisted right hand, prepared to be surprised one more time. “And how would that be, exactly?”

She grinned. “With chocolate.”

I could have resisted the fire and the orders, the threats and general bossiness. But even digger boots can’t fight friendship and chocolate.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to move from this spot for a week.” My stomach was stretched in ways I hadn’t known it was capable of. Janelle and I had dealt with the boggy ground of Devan Lovatt and man troubles the age-old way—we’d thrown buckets of food at it.