26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
What on Earth . . . ? Or rather, to be more accurate, What on Amazonia?
It took me a moment to gather my bearings, but once I did, I resolved two things. The first was that Ursa would not have left me on my own unless he was in some kind of real distress. The other was that I had to find him, and soon.
There was simply no way I would be able to catch up to him on foot, so I quickly took stock of my surroundings.
Not too far off, I spotted a sign advertising hoverbikes.
Hmm. One of those would probably do the trick, but I wasn’t convinced of my ability to operate one properly.
I’d only ever seen them on galaxy-net shows as part of some adventure series, with people searching for abandoned cargo or crashed pirate vessels.
Surely they couldn’t be too difficult to operate, though? After all, I had a PhD. Not in hoverbikes, mind, but could they really be all that complicated?
Before my hubris could carry me too far, though, I realized another problem.
Presumably the gentleman renting out the hoverbikes would expect payment.
I had some money saved up, but it was only accessible via credit—credit that Rawley would easily be able to track.
I had no idea where he presently was located, but I’d rather not send him a map with a big glowing arrow, pointing right to where I was.
Perhaps I might be able to appeal to the hoverbike rental agent’s sense of decency?
Unfortunately, the chances of that didn’t seem particularly high; as I approached him, he took the opportunity to openly ogle me in my blue dress, before reaching down to grab his crotch and none-too-subtly shift it. 1
One could only hope that in this case, appearances were deceiving. Very, very deceiving. “Hello,” I trilled to him. “Are these your hoverbikes? They’re . . . quite lovely.”
He said nothing, just spat out a stream of tobacco into a tin can.
O-kay. “I was wondering if you might be open to some kind of trade?” I ventured another step closer. “I need to use one of your bikes, but I’m afraid I don’t have access to my credit.” Don’t have access/my ex-fiancé is trying to murder me. Potayto, potahto.
“I’d only need it for a very short time. And in return, perhaps I could . . .” I searched my brain for any remotely useful skill I might lend. “Proofread an important comm message for you, if you like. Or recommend you some delicious mushroom recipes?”
The man’s expression let me know quite clearly what he thought of my offers. Then, abruptly, his grimy face broke into a grin, revealing several missing teeth. “A ride for a ride,” he declared.
I furrowed my brow at him. “I beg your pardon?”
He jerked his thumb at me. “You give me a ride”—he pointed back at himself—“I give you a ride.”
My frown deepened. “I’m not sure how that would work. I don’t know how to operate the bike . . . ?”
“He ain’t asking you to drive him on a hoverbike, lady,” came a deep voice from behind me.
Turning in surprise, I saw a group of men lounging against the side of the building opposite the rental shop.
Whether they’d been there all along or approached without me noticing, I couldn’t say, but it was obvious I’d drawn their attention.
Which was not necessarily . . . great news.
The hoverbike owner might have been objectively disgusting, but he was a small, compact, wiry man, without much substance to him.
If push came to shove, I might be able to take him in a fight.
The same could not be said for this group of men.
Although they ranged in height, many of them were quite tall—some nearly as tall as Ursa!
—and even many of those who had smaller statures were stocky and muscular.
All of them had tattoos generously covering their exposed skin—and there was a lot of exposed skin, since they all seemed to be wearing some kind of uniform of sunglasses, dark trousers, fingerless gloves, and open vests with no shirts on underneath.
Oh, and one man was wearing a burlap bag over his head, with two holes cut out for eyes, so . . . that wasn’t at all terrifying.
Gulping, I waved as though they were merely offering friendly advice. “Oh, hello! Everything’s under control here, thank you.”
I hoped that would be the end of it, but one of the men stepped toward me, nodding at the hoverbike owner with his chin. “Creepy Al ain’t gonna loan you a bike, lady. Not unless you suck him off.”
Aghast, I turned back to the proprietor, whose name was apparently “Creepy Al,” hoping he would contradict this man. Instead, he waggled his eyebrows at me.
Well, that certainly wasn’t going to happen. Oh, bother. That would mean I’d have to try to follow Ursa on foot, and he’d gotten such a head start on me. What a waste of time.
“I see.” I raised my chin primly. “If you gentlemen will excuse me . . .”
With no other way around it, I began the long trek in the direction I’d seen Ursa disappear. To my dismay, I heard boots crunching in the gravel behind me. Turning, I saw a small group of the vested men had broken off from the others and followed after me.
The man who’d addressed me earlier and warned me about Creepy Al was among them.
He raised his hands at me, signaling he was no threat.
“Amazonia ain’t no place to be wandering off alone, lady.
Especially out of town. Believe it or not, this is the most civilized spot we got. Where you need to get to?”
I gestured toward the cliffs in the distance. “My companion ran off that way and I need to find him.”
The man scratched the side of his face, sighing. “There ain’t much out there, aside from snakes and bobcats. Might be better to wait for him to come back.”
Irritation flared through me. This conversation was already taking up far too much of my time. “I’m not going to leave him out there on his own, and you’re not going to talk me out of it, so—good day.”
Determinedly, I turned and began marching in the other direction.
“Lady!” I heard the man calling after me, and when I didn’t turn around, “Lady!”
But I ignored him and continued venturing out into the desert beyond the town.
I was, quite naturally, worried about the wildlife he’d warned me about. Perhaps it would have been wiser to simply wait and hope that Ursa would return on his own. But I knew if our positions had been reversed, Ursa would come for me. What other choice did I have?
Not two minutes later, I heard a loud rumble. Turning, I saw a fleet of hoverbikes coming my way. At first, I thought Creepy Al had experienced a real turn in fortune and found a bunch of tourists who wanted to explore the desert.
Then I recognized the riders—the group of tattooed, vested men. Including the one with a bag on his head.2
The man I’d been speaking to, who I now surmised must be their leader, pulled up alongside me and idled in place. He shook his head at me, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was volunteering for. “Hop on, lady. We’ll help you find your friend . . .”
1. Ew.
2. It must be very difficult to drive a hoverbike that way, I imagine, but I’m sure he had his reasons.