The Dipole Collection: The Dipole Series

By Chris Lowry

Fifty million colonists on Mars versus the life of one woman who testified against her gangster ex-boyfriend.

 

It seems like a simple choice.

 

But when Mona Lisa O'Neil and her prison guard Bat team up with a drunk pilot and a psycho AI, they're gonna turn the galaxy upside down to stop the man and save Mars.

 

Fans of action packed comedy sci fi are gonna enjoy this collection of adventures from the Dipole series and get a sneak peak at Parralax, the next page swiping installment.

 

Grab your copy today

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Lowry
• Release date: Sep 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223743927

Chris Lowry

Chris Lowry is an author and adventure seeker who has traveled the globe exploring new worlds and writing about his thrilling experiences. With over one hundred thrillers, science fiction, and urban fantasy novels to his name, as well as more than a thousand articles published across various publications, Chris has established himself as a master storyteller and a leading voice in the world of action and adventure. Whether he's fighting off hordes of undead in a post-apocalyptic wasteland or braving the depths of outer space, Chris is always ready for his next thrilling adventure. Follow his journey as he battles against impossible odds and becomes the hero that the world needs.

Book preview

Chris Lowry

The Dipole Collection Volume One

Copyright © 2020 by Chris Lowry

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

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Contents

1. ALL JACKED UP

2. CHAPTER TWO

3. CHAPTER THREE

4. CHAPTER FOUR

5. CHAPTER FIVE

6. CHAPTER SIX

7. CHAPTER SEVEN

8. CHAPTER EIGHT

9. CHAPTER NINE

10. CHAPTER TEN

11. CHAPTER ELEVEN

12. CHAPTER TWELVE

13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

19. CHAPTER NINETEEN

20. CHAPTER TWENTY

21. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

22. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

23. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

24. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

25. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

26. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

27. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

28. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

29. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

30. CHAPTER THIRTY

31. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

32. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

33. CHAPTER THREE

34. CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

35. CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

36. CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

37. CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

38. CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

39. CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

40. CHAPTER FORTY

41. CHAPTER FORTY ONE

42. CHAPTER FORTY TWO

43. CHAPTER FORTY THREE

44. CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

45. CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

46. CHAPTER FORTY SIX

47. CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

48. LUNAR HUSTLE

49. CHAPTER TWO

50. CHAPTER THREE

51. CHAPTER FOUR

52. CHAPTER FIVE

53. CHAPTER SIX

54. CHAPTER SEVEN

55. CHAPTER EIGHT

56. CHAPTER NINE

57. CHAPTER TEN

58. CHAPTER ELEVEN

59. CHAPTER TWELVE

60. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

61. THE DIPOLE SHIELD - the Dipole Series

62. CHAPTER ONE

63. CHAPTER TWO

64. CHAPTER THREE

65. CHAPTER FOUR

66. CHAPTER FIVE

67. CHAPTER SIX

68. CHAPTER SEVEN

69. CHAPTER EIGHT

70. CHAPTER NINE

71. CHAPTER TEN

72. CHAPTER ELEVEN

73. CHAPTER TWELVE

74. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

75. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

76. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

77. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

78. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

79. CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN

80. CHAPTER NINETEEN

81. CHAPTER TWENTY

82. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

83. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

84. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

85. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

86. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

87. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

88. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

89. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

90. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

91. CHAPTER THIRTY

92. PLANET 9 - the Dipole Series

93. Planet 9

94. CHAPTER TWO

95. CHAPTER THREE

96. CHAPTER FOUR

97. CHAPTER FIVE

98. CHAPTER SIX

99. CHAPTER SEVEN

100. CHAPTER EIGHT

101. CHAPTER NINE

102. CHAPTER TEN

103. CHAPTER ELEVEN

104. CHAPTER TWELVE

105. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

106. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

107. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

108. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

109. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

110. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

111. CHAPTER NINETEEN

112. CHAPTER TWENTY

113. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

114. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

115. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

116. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

117. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

118. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

119. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

120. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

121. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

122. CHAPTER THIRTY

123. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

124. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

125. CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

126. CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

127. CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

128. CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

129. CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

130. CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

131. CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

132. CHAPTER FORTY

133. CHAPTER FORTY ONE

MORE WORK BY THE AUTHOR

1

ALL JACKED UP

Musk swirled below, an inexorable red circle rolling underneath the giant space station that drifted in orbit above Mars.

It was a dark stain on the red planet, miles of 3-D printed concrete buildings spread out under a protective dome that kept fifty million citizens safe.

Tinker rolled around in his space suit and cursed under his breath. His leg was tangled in the tether, and if he didn’t get loose soon, he was going to get behind.

Unit 7, the voice in his headset crackled on the tiny speakers.

Go for Tinker, he grinned.

Just say Go, the voice snipped. You don’t have to say your name every time.

I know, he said as one hand flailed at the thick cord that connected him to the space station. But you know, there are about sixty of us out here, right? I don’t want you to get us mixed up.

I used your Unit designation.

Oh, he said as he flicked the cord in the vacuum to try and pry it loose from where it looped around his ankle. Right. Unit 7, that’s me. But if we’re being honest-

We’re not.

It’s should be Unit eight and half, he giggled. You know what I’m saying?

I know what you’re saying.

It’s the size of my unit, he clarified.

I know that’s what you were referring to.

He finally managed to clear the loop over his ankle and free the tether back to the station.

Uh-oh, he said.

That’s why I contacted you, said the snippy voice of Clean Command Control.

Uh, I’ve got a problem here.

The end of the tether snaked away from the space station. He could see the simple connection carbineer winking in an LED light from the exterior of the station. It just floated there, looking all unconnected and stuff.

Which mean he wasn’t connected to, well, anything really. And that of course, meant-

I’m falling, he keyed the heads up display in the goldfish bowl helmet. Help! SOS. Mayday!

Unit 7-

Eight and a half, he almost sobbed on the verge of hysterics.

Unit 7, you’re using too much oxygen. You need to calm down and relax. I’ve dispatched a rescue ranger to your location.

Shit, he grunted.

3-C, I’m not at my location.

He could feel himself floating away from the station, could feel the low G of Mars gravity grabbing his body and pulling him planet side.

There was no atmosphere on Mars, not enough to make a difference.

He wasn’t going to burn up on entry.

He would just drift down until he plowed into the red clay at a couple hundred miles an hour.

Unless he bounced off the dome.

Then he might just slide along the invisible barrier and smash into the dirt at the far edge of civilized Mars.

What do you mean you’re not at your location.

I saw a smudge-

You were instructed to never leave your designated path, the snippy voice sounded even more frustrated than usual.

I know, but I figured you know, you mates might like a little initiative.

You’re a janitor, Unit 7. Your job is to inspect the station hull for dings, pits and potential events in your designated path. It’s not to investigate anything outside of that path.

But what if I saw something and it could save the whole station, Tinker said. I’d be like a hero or something.

Unit 7, stand by, the rescue ranger has located your tracking beacon. They anticipate retrieval within fifteen minutes.

Really, he sighed. That’s great. Because I really didn’t want to turn into jelly on Mars or anything.

You’re required to see the 3-C commander upon your return.

He gulped.

Is he mad at me?

I suspect he is not happy with you, but that’s not the case. You’re going to be charged for the rescue I imagine.

Charged? But I don’t make that much to start with.

And he’ll probably let you go.

What do you mean let me go? I’m already let go out here, just free balling it in space.

Fired Unit 7. You’re going to get fired.

Don’t I get a second chance or something? Come on, this was one little mistake.

This is your third rescue in six weeks.

Those other two don’t count, he said. They were honest mistakes.

He lurched as a magnetic clamp slammed into the plate on the back of his extravehicular mobility unit.

He tried to peer over his shoulder to see the retrieval ship reeling him in, but the view was blacked by the helmet that protected him from the vacuum of space.

It’s been nice knowing you Unit 7, the curt voice said over his radio.

Eight and a half, he let out a big breath as he began moving.

But right then, in the cold emptiness of space, the vast loneliness stretching beyond him to the reach of infinity and the specter of unemployment looming over him, it felt more like three.

2

CHAPTER TWO

What kind of half ass janitor are you?

His boss’ name was Devon, which made it sound perfect with an added moniker of the Douchebag.

Tinker was sure he was probably a nice guy to people he liked. He liked to give people the benefit of the doubt until he got to know them.

But Devon the D-bag did not like him, he decided.

It didn’t take much to convince him.

First, there was all the yelling.

Tinker had hoped the firing would just be a simple conversation, a statement of fact and well wishes of good luck all around.

Seriously, that’s all a firing would take.

Damon the D though took the act of firing somebody like it was freaking Festivus.

First, there was the airing of the grievances, a long laundry list of complaints, shortcomings, faults and mistakes made.

Tinker half expected it to progress to feats of strength where the D would try to prove he was the stronger of the two, either through arm wrestling or maybe a real match.

He thought about just getting up and walking out.

After all, they couldn’t fire him twice. He was pretty sure they couldn’t.

But they did have his last couple of workdays on a credit chit that Devon the D kept waving under his nose and around his face every time he wanted to make a point.

He could really use the money. Rent was due, and he owed a little bit to a very nefarious character who would make his life a living hell if he didn’t get paid back.

Or worse.

You’re right, he said and nodded his head when the D took a deep breath before launching into the next segment of his tirade.

Tinker just caught the gist of it, mostly because he wasn’t really paying that much attention.

Lazy, self centered, slacker, he could have ticked them off on his fingers as the man shouted them out.

Hell, there were probably more, but what was the use in getting upset. He had been a pilot in the war for Martian Independence and gone through Air Academy where a DI screamed with such abandon and so much creativity, it would have left Devon sucking his thumb and muttering for his mommy.

There really wasn’t too much the boss could dish out that would hurt him.

Unless he withheld the credit chit.

Devon held it up by his head.

I should hold out all the rescue fees, he screamed. Do you know they charge us every single time they go out? Even for false alarms.

It wasn’t a false alarm, said Tinker. I was unhooked and headed on an express route to Musk.

Devon spluttered.

How did you unhook from the station? We have Safety Protocols.

Tinker nodded.

I know, right. I was just as surprised as you are.

Devon spluttered some more.

He slammed the credit chit on the desk and grabbed a low ball tumbler full of whiskey on ice. He took a big sip, slurped in an ice cube and started choking as it lodged in his throat.

Gak, he pounded his chest.

Burns going down, doesn’t it, Tinker grinned. That’s how you know it’s smooth.

Devon pointed at his throat as he made a gagging sound.

That’s right, Tinker said. I heard that too. Get some air rolling over your tongue and it enhances the taste. Something about the way the oxygen reacts with the molecules of the drink.

Devon dropped to his knees and began bouncing his head like a chicken, working to dislodge the ice in his throat.

You okay?

Gargh, Devon answered.

Tinker worried about him for a second as he turned a peculiar shade of red tinged with purple.

You need me to call a rescue ranger for you?

He made a swipe for his credit chit and slid it in his pocket as he made the way to the door. It slid open at his approach. The hacking and noise kept going behind him.

Hey love, he called to the boss’ secretary. I think he needs some help in here.

He stood back as she rushed through and checked on Devon.

The man pitched over on his side, and pawed at the carpet.

I don’t know if you want me to call somebody? Tinker said as she hovered over the man on the floor. He was pretty pissed that they kept charging us.

The secretary drew back her foot and kicked the boss in the stomach. A chunk of melted ice sailed across the room and clattered against the wall next to Tinker.

Devon took in a great gasping breath of wheezing air.

Looks like he’s going to be all right, said Tinker.

He ducked through the door and made good on his exit before the man changed his mind about credit or bills or wanted to yell at him some more.

3

CHAPTER THREE

The Space Station above Mars was as large as the city of New York back on earth.

It was a monument to the ability of man that it continued to float over Musk in a geosynchronous orbit that allowed it to serve as both a staging platform for intergalactic travel and act almost as a colony in its own right.

There were parts of the station that were pristine, shiny examples of what life in space could be like.

Tinker did not live in one of those parts.

He lived in a seedy apartment in a seedy underbelly that aspired to be called a ghetto.

Still, it was a step up from the outer colony on Mars where he was born, so he considered it moving up in the world.

When he had money, times were good. Station life was expensive, but his rent was cheap.

Except when he was behind.

When he was behind, like he was right now, he had to sneak and hide.

Certain games of chance had not gone his way, and he owed his rent to a hard assed landlady and a repayment to a small time wanna be Capo.

Worse, they worked for different captains who reported to the same mob boss warlord that controlled the station.

He wasn’t sure who he could pay first, or who he should pay first, since there wasn’t enough for both.

Tinker ducked his head as he walked and cursed Devon the D under his breath.

The man went and choked himself and didn’t give Tinker a chance to clean out his locker before he walked out.

There wasn’t much inside the simple break room, except a hat, which he had been using to hide his face on his way to and from home.

How’s tricks? a voice interrupted him.

Hey Trixie, Tinker ducked into a doorway as he stared at the six foot masculine looking woman standing on the side of the walkway.

You’re home early, Trixie pulled a tube of lipstick from a pocket purse and applied it to her thick lips.

You keeping up with me Trix? Tinker grinned.

You know me and Alabama always have our eye on you hon, Trixie smiled.

You have a little-

What?

He pointed.

Lipstick on your teeth.

She scrubbed it off with a big finger.

You just saved my life, Trixie squealed in a deep voice. You know what some date would say if I gave him my million dollar smile and he saw that?

Tinker thought maybe a date with Trixie wouldn’t say anything about a little lipstick. She was a specialty hooker, a tall transvestite in a tight leather mini-dress. Any date who wanted her didn’t care about lipstick.

Have you seen Ms. Katsopolis, he glanced around to see if the mention of her name made the woman appear.

No hon, but she is looking for you.

Tinker nodded.

Owe her, huh?

He shrugged.

I owe lots of people, he said. I mean, a couple of people.

Where is she on the list?

Top three, he said. And I just got fired.

Again?

It didn’t match my skillset, he explained.

Weren’t you like a cleaning guy?

Yeah. So?

So anyone can clean. Hell, I cleaned before I got into this line of work.

Tinker rolled his shoulders.

I’m a pilot, he said.

Of what?

I’ll get a ship.

And when that happens, you can give me a ride to the Moon, she said.

Tinker watched her root in the top half of her bra and pull out a credit chip.

Until then, let me spot you an advance.

Thanks Trixie, but I couldn’t take your money. You work hard for it.

Hon, half the time they want to talk and the other half I’m just acting. You take this and pay me back when you get on your feet.

Tinker reached out for the credit chip.

Maybe I could just borrow a stake for a game.

Trixie shook her head.

Or you could pay your rent and buy time to find another job.

Yeah, but this is high stakes, he said. A pot could cover all I owe and pay you back with enough left over for a couple of weeks.

Trixie snagged the credit chip from him and held it out of his reach.

I’m not going to loan you money to gamble. You do the smart thing and pay the landlady. You can get your stake from your first paycheck, she said. Normal paycheck.

Tinker sighed and nodded his head.

She watched him for a moment. A huge grin broke her sharp cheekbones.

4

CHAPTER FOUR

Four of a kind. The odds of pulling a pair of Aces in the deal were low.

Tinker almost went all in on the first round of betting.

But there was a smug little son of a bitch in a Western shirt and Elvis sunglasses who won the last three hands and Tinker wanted to take him for some of his money.

He sat with his back to a viewport that looked over the black expanse of space, the cold metallic gleam of the space station a curved line stretching toward the darkness.

It was a good seat. Anyone sitting across from the self styled king of gambling would get distracted by the sparkle of stars, by the ships coming and going to the docks and airlocks.

It was all an act, Tinker knew.

Just a way for the man to get an edge and in this game, any edge could help you win big.

So he tossed in a chip, just a buy in to see the turn.

I’m in, he licked his lips.

He really needed this money.

Lot rent was due three days ago, and Ms. Katsopolis was hounding the step of his RV to collect.

He had vowed last time to never be late again after his landlady made arrangements to extend him credit.

Tinker wasn’t sure if he could fuck a senior citizen again.

It would be one thing if the former showgirl retained the toned fitness of her ancient glory, but decades of smoking and thin mints had not been kind.

He shivered at the memory of sagging skin and flabby wattles as Western shirt put his chip in.

Tell, the smug man grinned under his shades.

It was unprofessional and unnecessary as every player had seen it.

The other four players wasted no time in debate before joining the pot.

Tinker almost shivered again.

Thoughts of his amorous landlady disappeared when the dealer flipped the turn to reveal a third ace.

He wanted to shout, All in.

He wanted to scream, Eat it motherfucker!

But he counted the stack of chips in front of him with one hand.

It didn’t take long.

He put two of them to slow play and hunched back in his seat.

The other players studied him.

A lot of pros said Don’t play the cards, play the player, but Tinker didn’t think that made too much sense.

Players lied. All of the time.

Professionally.

Personally, he believed in Lady Luck.

Sometimes she shined on him. Like this hand just in time for rent, a couple of bills and that red headed cocktail waitress that kept catching his eye with a smile that said she wasn’t really that shy.

Sometimes Lady Luck hated him, which is how he ended up an aspiring professional gambler and unemployed anything else living in a second-hand RV.

Western shirt shifted forward and

funneled his chips into the pot.

All in, he stared at Tinker. You’re bluffing.

The next player folded but the other two jumped in and it went to Tinker to call.

He pushed his tiny stack of chips into the pot.

The dealer turned a second Ace on the river card.

Pair showing, she said. Turn over your cards.

Tinker flipped over his pair of Aces.

Son of a bitch, Western shirt muttered as the other two players made sounds of disgust.

Tinker raked in the pot and tried not to giggle.

He had hoped for rent money.

He had prayed to the gambling gods for just a little more for food and a few debts. As he stacked the fifty-two thousand three hundred and some odd dollars in chips on a tray to turn in, the cocktail waitress sauntered past.

Lucky duck, she shot him a grin.

He held out a hundred-dollar chip.

About time I had some.

Thanks, she pocketed the chip and eyed the tray. "I’m off in an hour.

Wanna get a drink?"

Her green eyes twinkled in the neon glow of the casino lights.

I’d like that, Tinker pointed to a high top in the bar across the floor. She winked and let him watch her walk away.

5

CHAPTER FIVE

Before you ask, she said as she slid onto the stool next to him and almost made him spill his drink.

My name is Bama and no, I’m not from there.

Her green eyes twinkled while her knee brushed against his thigh.

We named the dog Indiana, Tinker said in a very poor Scottish accent.

You…have chosen poorly, she winked.

Tinker laughed with her.

He felt amazing. He had credit in his pocket, a cold bottle of beer on the table and a beautiful woman to banter with. Better still, she knew movies from old earth!

Lady Luck was loving him indeed.

Bama waved over the waiter.

I’d like a real beer, she lifted Tinker’s bottle. And the lady is buying.

Real men drink whatever they want, he defended.

My Silver Sister will enjoy her wine cooler while you go pull me a Guinness.

She sent the waiter on his way. Tinker tried not to grimace. Real beer had a cost associated with it by the time it reached exotic ports of call in the reaches of space.

There were a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, and every single one of them wanted a little slice.

Those slices added up, and he wondered how much credit he was going to have to part with to keep this gorgeous specimen beside him.

Give me your particulars while we wait, she said.

Tinker took a pull on the longneck.

What you see is what you get, he said. I make my credit the old-fashioned way.

Hooking? her smile sparkled as the waiter delivered her beer.

Cut rate prices, he told her. It’s the buy one, get one free business model.

I’d pay for that ride.

He paused with the bottle halfway to his lips and couldn’t fight the grin that split his face.

I could put you on the frequent flyer plan, he offered.

It was her turn to grin as her knee continued the slow rub up and down his leg.

My turn, Bama took a sip and wiped her mouth with the tip of a manicured finger.

I work here and at a club you don’t know, but I’m really a businesswoman.

What club? he asked. I know lots of places.

She ducked her head and blushed.

Cat’s Meow.

I know it, he said. Waitress huh?

He slid his eyes from her toes to her amble cleavage straining at the confines of her blouse, being too obvious to be serious.

I don’t strip, she whispered. Not in public.

Tell me more about your business woman stuff, he said. "And maybe I’ll take you someplace private.

Do you think anyone ever said I want to be a waitress when I grow up?

Tinker shook his head. He didn’t think many kids had that in their dream house, unless Mom or Dad was a waiter. They don’t. But we start doing it because it’s easy and the pay is good.

He studied her full lips as she settled them against the frost tinged glass.

I can be, he agreed, matching her with a sip of his own although the bottle was almost empty.

If you look like this, the pay can stay good. But not forever.

Hence the businesswoman?

Exactly.

What kind of business?

The easy kind.

Bama waved at the waiter and held up two fingers for another round.

I like easy, he said as he tried to hide the sad look on his face, his brain calculating the damage to his account.

I could tell, she tilted her head left in a way that was both inviting and a tease.

He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

She leaned her cheek against his palm and locked him in her gaze.

The waiter clinked down a bottle and a glass interrupting the moment.

She shuddered.

You feel that, right?

Yes, he forced out a croak.

It’s almost chemical, one hand moved to his knee while the other grabbed the dark Guinness and drank it.

Electric, he agreed.

I haven’t felt that in a long long time. Do you have someplace we can go?

Her fingers moved up his leg and squeezed. Tinker almost sputtered his beer.

It’s not much, he said.

Is it private? she leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

Her hand moved all the way to rest against the growing tightness in his jumpsuit.

Mostly.

Mine isn’t, she said softly. Finish your beer and let’s get out of here.

6

CHAPTER SIX

They barely made it through the door.

The trip down the long corridor to the modified cargo hold he called home was a blur in his mind.

There was kissing, he remembered. The soft feel of her lips on his, her hands all over him.

Groping to be sure. The curve of her hip under his fingers, the electric scent of her skin against his nose.

Tinker wondered how he got this lucky. It was bound to happen, he thought. The odds were if you ask a thousand women to go back to your place, at least one was bound to say yes.

He lost count after five hundred, and if he wasn’t so far gone into the way her hair curled across the back of his hand, he could take a moment to add up the rest.

Close to a thousand. Probably.

Nice place, Bama huffed in a husky voice as she glanced around the Spartan interior and worked the buttons of her blouse.

Tinker slipped his shirt over his head and kissed her down the three-foot passage to the bed space.

She grabbed his face and kissed him as she undid his pants. He let them fall off his narrow hips and slide down his muscular thighs.

Commando? she grinned in admiration.

Only way to roll.

She shimmied out of her skirt and let him appreciate her for a moment.

Are you ready? she purred.

Tinker gulped. His brain was on vapour lock as he stared at her.

He managed to open his mouth and grunt something close to yes.

Then she took him in her arms, and he took her in his and the rest was lost in a sweaty blur of breathless memories.

7

CHAPTER SEVEN

He woke up next to an angel. That’s how he felt. Bama sprawled beside him in all her naked splendour.

He spent a few moments admiring the curve of her buttocks, the shape of her thigh and the way her red hair framed porcelain features.

He reached over and started rubbing her back.

She stirred and shifted her legs wider.

Lower, she murmured without opening her eyes.

He did as she asked, moving the tip of his fingers in wider patterns until she began to make noises showing her appreciation.

She rolled over and pulled him on top of her.

They finished, half on and half off the bed, she giggled and grabbed his face with both hands.

I’m glad I met you, she kissed him.

A sentiment I share, he assured her.

I have to go to a meeting, she said. Or I would ask you to stay.

That’s very nice of you, he smacked her lightly on the bottom and kissed the boo boo better. Considering it’s my place.

Don’t you want to know about my meeting?

I assumed you would tell me if it was my business.

It’s about business, she rolled over and traced a pattern on his chest.

The businesswoman kind of business we almost discussed last night?

Exactly. I’m going to meet an investor and tell him he’s out.

Why is he out? asked Tinker.

Cause you’re in.

I’m in?

After last night? she growled and scratched his chest leaving little red claw marks. I wanna be in business with you.

What if I’m not expanding my portfolio?

She reached down and demonstrated her powers of massage.

Honey I can expand more than your portfolio.

He reached for her again but she rolled away. He put his arms behind his head and watched her root around for cast off clothes and get dressed.

Meet me later?

When and where?

Noon, she said. You know right way station?

That’s Mr. Kim’s territory, he gulped.

Chicken.

Hell yeah I’m chicken. You cross Mr. Kim and you end up in an airlock.

Or worse, she said.

He nodded as she bent over and kissed him.

But Mr. Kim isn’t a part of this, said Bama. Sometimes a place to meet is just a place to meet.

She drew out another kiss for a few moments until the random wanderings of his hands became a little too focused.

She pulled away with a sigh.

Maybe later, she promised. After.

After.

He fell back onto the bed and listened to her leave.

8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tinker laid back in the crumpled mess of sheets that smelled of perfume, sweat and sex.

A grin stretched the corners of his mouth into an almost painful rictus.

The pillow held traces of her hair and the thought of her smooth skin against his lips had him ready for noon.

Hopefully they could come back to his place for an afternoon of delight.

A metal clank interrupted his fantasy of the memories he planned to make.

He jumped out of bed and slid into some running shorts as he hopped on one foot, then the other across the nineteen feet that made up his home.

He shoved the door open ready to fight.

Ms. Katsopolis worked on the magnetic lock to his cargo hold.

Enjoy your guest? she giggled.

Tinker couldn’t tell if she was jealous.

I’m too old to be jealous, she said off his look.

The former space station showgirl could have had a mind reader’s act off the strip.

Her accent alone would sell the act, even blunted as it was by a lifetime spent in the dim corridors of dozens of space stations scattered between earth and Mars.

Ms. K- Tinker began.

She held up a hand to stop him.

You’re late. It’s simple math you beautiful boy, Ms. K eyed the outline of muscles etched in his stomach.

I need the rent, some rent or you’ve got to go.

Tinker stepped out onto the cold metal deck of the corridor in his one bare foot.

He yelped as the cold burned and flinched up on one foot and shivered. Everything in space was cold.

Everything except the memory of the woman from the night before.

Ms. K, I’ve got it, he said.

She held out her hand, palm up. The other hand gripped the lapel of a silk kimono and barely kept it closed.

Fluffy house slippers completed her ensemble and little else. It was all she ever wore.

I don’t have it with me, Tinker lied. I’m going to get it.

She crossed her arms over her pendulant breasts and frowned.

Did your pretty friend bring you an inheritance?

No such luck Ms. K.

No luck for you, cackled the wizened crone. But for me, I will get very lucky to help you.

Tinker held back a shiver as he leaned against the frame of his door.

I really appreciate you working with me Ms. K, but things like that aren’t working on me right now.

He waved a hand as if to present his exhausted and used crotch.

She wiggled a finger to dismiss him.

Now perhaps. After what I heard last night I am not surprised. But you are young so you will recover quickly I think.

Tinker knew there was no arguing and bowed his head in defeat. Money or the money shot, that’s all she wanted.

Okay.

Tonight.

Yes.

And take shower, she called over her shoulder as she swayed away.

Before I cut off water and electric.

9

CHAPTER NINE

Tinker stood in the corridor in Mr. Kim’s section watching the world rose colored through the polarized lenses of his sunglasses.

Lady Luck was loving him indeed.

He was still tired and a little sore from the long night of hot sex, but nothing a few hours and a few beers couldn’t cure. Or maybe a special concoction he could brew up on his own.

Now that he had a little credit in his pocket, he could get some of the equipment he needed to build a still and make some starshine.

Hell, he might even be able to bottle some and turn a little more profit on it.

If he kept the margins tight and the movement on the down low so he didn’t attract the attention of the gangsters who controlled the liquor trade in space, it might work.

He planned to listen to Bama’s sales pitch, ravage her repeatedly until they both couldn’t walk straight and then ask her to dinner.

Maybe over a proper date he would consider her proposal.

It was probably a scam or maybe a direct marketing thing but who knew, maybe it was something legit.

Not that it mattered to him. If it was a real job, one that paid actual credit, he wouldn’t have a problem with it.

And if it bordered on the grey side of galactic law, well, he didn’t have much of a problem with that either.

It couldn’t hurt to listen.

He heard it before he saw it.

A thumping bass reverberated off the corridor walls.

Tinker winced as the noise assaulted his ears, assaulted every sense of composition and melody.

Most residents of Space Stations walked. It was a universal given when every ounce of freight cost to deliver.

Only the really wealthy could afford vehicles to navigate the corridors.

Even if it was only a modified electric cart. He watched as a customized cart took the corner too fast, small wheels screeching on the metal deck.

Hip Hop bass thumped through the metal corridor so loud the words, melody and music couldn’t be distinguished.

It was just rhythmic noise and static.

The cart rumbled in front of him and Bama leaned out of the passenger seat.

Get in.

Tinker hoisted himself into an open interior that still managed to reek of weed.

Not even the good stuff but the skunky smell from cheap MJ kept wet in plastic bags too long.

The driver glared over the seat at him, but didn’t turn the bass down.

He was short with pale skin and soft looking, like a dough boy who spent too much time on a couch playing video games.

He was dressed like a wanna be gangsta, hat turned sideways, oversized jersey and what looked like skorts with high tops.

His glare faded to a frown to show off two gold capped teeth.

This is Goldie, Bama