Quinn's Quasar: Outer Settlement Agency, #2

By Lyn Brittan

Half clone, half human, Quinn’s life has been anything but easy. People like her credentials just fine, by whenever news of her heritage surfaces, she’s sent back to the temp agency and shuttled off to another planet.

Her handsome new boss promises a different outcome this time, but his family’s name carries a long history of clone mistreatment. Learning to trust him may be the hardest thing she’s ever done, but with a new round of attacks against her, it may also be the only way to stay alive.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gryy Brown Press
• Release date: Aug 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516398010

Lyn Brittan

Lyn grew up wanting to live like her heroes, James Bond and Indiana Jones. She wasn't totally successful and never had to shoot her way out of a hotel bedroom. She's still coming to terms with it. Awards and woot-woots include: USA Today Bestseller, 2013 and 2014 Galaxy Award Winner.

Book preview

Also by Lyn Brittan

Mercenaries of Fortune

Knights of Ambra  (Brant and Michaela)

Sergeant of Ambra  (Eric and Glori)

Duke of Ambra  (Kent and Elena)

Count of Ambra  (Anderson and Kendall)

––––––––

Dirty Djinn

The Genie’s Witch  (Tig and Dinah)

A Genie’s Love  (Faruq and Cassia)

The Cowboy Genie’s Wife  (Fazil and Rosa)

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Outer Settlement Agency

Solia’s Moon  (Giancarlo and Solia)

Anja’s Star  (Retzi and Anja)

Quinn’s Quasar  (Prio and Quinn)

Lana’s Comet  (Cyprus and Lana)

Vin’s Rules  (Vin and Allie)

Waters of London

The Clocks of London  (Patrick and Moira)

The Doctor of London  (Kennerick and Lady Hala)

Balloc Manor

Of Magic and Engineering  (Roland and Prudence)

Of Machinery and Thievery  (Liam and Suzette)

QUINN’S QUASAR

Outer Settlement Agency

By

Lyn Brittan

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Chapter One

Corso Space Station

Prio took his time drinking in the vision standing before him. Short, tan, she had eyes as wide as the galaxy. Those eyes landed on everything except Prio’s face. Scared? Or playing at demure? Both annoyed the hell out of him. You’re being paid to keep focused. If you’re having problems already, I’ll find someone else.

My apologies, sir.

Quinn, is it? You’re the woman the agency sent over, correct? You’re early.

The woman in the perfectly pressed suit nodded but, as before, avoided eye contact.

Is there something supremely wrong with the room? I was told it’s the finest on the space station.

No, sir.

Supremely right, then?

Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I didn’t expect to find you painting.

What? It doesn’t fit the profile? He tried not to laugh while she stumbled through an explanation, then he stopped her with a raised hand. It relaxes me. When you are responsible for as much as I am, you need certain diversions.

Prio stepped from behind the easel and headed toward the trembling woman. He slid his hand against his trousers, leaving a blue streak of paint across his thigh, before tapping the screen of his omnitablet. This vitae of yours is fairly impressive. Top lunar schools, then here with the Meash Communications Department. Why leave that behind to sign with a for-hire agency?

She nibbled her bottom lip. Money.

So you signed on with the man who has the most of it. No need to protest. I get it, but do you understand that life will be nothing like it is at this space station? I’m only here for work and interviews. This is not the norm. Most of what we do happens in the outer quadrants. If you’re of the mind that my name brings with it a certain standard of life, you’re wrong. Expect dust, nights in the field, and weeks removed from proper society.

He exaggerated for effect. Life in the 72nd Quadrant wasn’t that bad. Anyone who knew where to look could find a decent social circle. The space between those circles had earned the whole series of outer quadrants their reputations as dearths of civilization.

There are a lot of companies out there. From my understanding, the 72nd Quadrant is based around work and warehouses. Businesses like yours supply things for all parts of Titan and are its moneymakers. I would hardly call it uncivilized.

You’ve done your research. Good. That’s an improvement over the halfwits who came before you.

The woman’s face split into a smile, which turned out to be the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a while. Funny what a state of ease can do to a person. Her whole face melted, and he realized that her eyes were bigger than he’d thought. Her nose was a little too wide—and low.

Close to human, but not quite. Kin-Humanoid – a descendent of those poor souls once disgustingly called clones His study of her hadn’t gone unnoticed. The same face that had been so pliable a second ago turned to stone, hardening in a millisecond. Any attempt to prove that her status wasn’t an issue would have made it one by default. He hoped for the best and dropped it.

She didn’t. You have a reputation, Mr. Grantly. I know that you fired the last two girls without bothering to leave the station. If you’d like me to tell the agency you want someone else, I’ll be happy to do so for whatever reason.

Sit down. The others were credit grabbers. I need someone less concerned about getting into my accounts and more concerned about the task at hand. Now, if you don’t mind, I need you to explain something.

Prio pulled up her full vitae on his omnitablet and projected it onto the wall, bathing them in blue-and-white light. High marks in school and yet a series of good, but short-lived, jobs. Why?

The tight smile didn’t return. In fact, to his great shock, her face looked positively dangerous. A lesser man might have been scared off.

Stiff backed, she didn’t so much sit as snap herself into the chair. As you can see from my scores, I am more than qualified for this position. Nothing else should factor in or be discussed.

I think I have an understanding.

Do you? she asked, arms folded, short fingers tapping against biceps.

Before, I thought you were scared. Now I know better. I see that anger hovering in your eyes. It’s misplaced. Look, let’s get this behind us so we can move forward. You’re not human, are you?

You’re not allowed to ask that.

I believe it’s that political correctness you can thank for your vitae. Best education and yet a string of jobs? Are you good at what you do?

Yes, and I—

That’s all I care about. Are you a Kin-Humanoid?

Her eyes locked onto his. He worried for a moment that they might bore a jagged hole through his skull. This creature—no, woman—had spent her whole life facing discrimination. The vitae was proof of it.

He turned back to the vitae, shaking his head at the names of the companies. Many of them were run by associates of his deceased father, people Prio went out of his way to avoid. He cracked his neck and faced the tightlipped woman head on.

"Whatever. I don’t need to know if you’re human or not, but I will tell you this. All of these companies have long histories of mistreatment of non-humans. I’d call it evil. If you are Kin-Humanoid, then someone at your agency has a demented sense of humor. If you are Kin-Humanoid, you don’t need to work—you have enough right here to make you a very wealthy woman. You’re being toyed with, and there’s not a lawyer in the galaxy who wouldn’t love to make you the test case for this level of discrimination."

Evil companies? They sent me to you, too.

Ouch. But, fair enough.

Quinn’s eyes flashed as if she wanted to take it back, but she said nothing.

He knew he’d taken the questioning a step too far,