As the Cog Turns (Mecha Origin Book 2) Read online

  Her lip curled into a sneer. “As if. You’d only get in my way.”

  “I agree. May the best Siyborgh win.” And then, because he apparently held some inner masochist tendencies, he gave her a slap on the buttocks as he walked past her.

  To his surprise, she didn’t shoot him in the back.

  Given their ship docked at the far end of a spoke attached to the space station, he had a fair distance to walk. The old abandoned ore mining facility, shut down because the owners went bankrupt, took up a massive amount of space. It was meant as not only a processing factory of raw meteors but also a home for all the beings required to work within it.

  While automation proved popular for a while, organic beings with free thought and ability were still required to repair and provide quality control. The one attempt at having AIs running and monitoring, as well as repairing, proved disastrous. When the machines took over and began reproducing in a bid to swarm the universe, it took the combined effort of several galaxies to quell and destroy them before the tainted robots could spread.

  The Obsidian Market relied almost entirely on organic beings to run it. For a place that thrived in offering lawless experiences and tainted goods, it was run with strict efficiency. While killing within the market might be prohibited, contracts could be brokered for the assassination of beings so long as it occurred off the premises. Wulff would wager some of those murders occurred only nanoseconds after the ship disconnected from the port.

  This meant Wulff had to show care in his dealings. The gears in his body had great value, and if he wasn’t careful, he might land in a bounty hunter’s trap.

  Despite his longer stride, Ursy passed him, not deigning to glance his way, the goggles around her neck bouncing with each angry step. Angry because he’d dared to touch her? Or because he chose to do his own thing?

  He could only hope, in her irritation, she didn’t leave without him. Especially since she would very much dislike where he headed.

  The old factory was built in numerous sections. Housing comprised a ring at the top and along the bottom with corridors both vertically and horizontally connecting them. The center of the station itself was all work. It used to have massive bays for drawing in the shattered rock and conveyer belts for analyzing each piece then sorting them to either receive additional cutting to make the precious metals more accessible or off to the furnace level for melting.

  While hints of the past remained—the conveyer belts, for example, now acting as moving paths carrying beings and their goods along—the renovation of the space showed the eclectic ability to create just about anything in space using odds and ends.

  He entered the bottom level of the market place—previously the sorting bay—and was bombarded with sound in the form of shoppers being assailed by vendors screaming—and in some cases clicking mandibles—about their wares. Smells invaded the nasal passages, inducing saliva, bringing a rumble to even the most finicky of eaters. Then there was the visual overload: flashing bright lights, colors all over the place. Everything clashed, and it was all designed to do one thing: draw attention.

  It was always easy to spot the virgins to the market. They tended to point and gape. Space buses brought them in loads, promising them wonders forbidden on their worlds, resulting in a form of tourism that was surprisingly in high demand.

  Those who’d already tasted the market attractions tended to stride with purpose and proved more or less immune to distraction, especially if they had a specific destination in mind. The bottom level held the cheaper more garish displays. There existed a slight chance that a drone or gear escaped from Snype’s hidden workshop had found its way here.

  Let Ursy find it. He needed to go higher. He headed for the lift, knowing better than to grumble at the credit he paid by swiping his wrist to activate the metal plate embedded in his skin.

  The pattern, a mixture of raised ridges that formed lines and dots, along with his biological signature could be scanned when he was required to make payment. It also acted as an identification card. It meant anyone monitoring could follow him each time he was scanned.

  Odd the greeter hadn’t asked for it. Most receiving ports forced visitors to register their presence. Then again, he eyed a hovering drone—barely the size of the cog he’d used to replace the knuckles on his left hand. There existed eyes everywhere. Watching him from the moment he stepped off his ship. In the common areas at any rate. In the private establishments, the owners were the ones to control the environment. Good thing he had something to scramble anything looking to record his actions. He just needed to slip a hand inside his duster to activate the jamming device.

  The lift he stood on had a few other passengers. All of them paid for admission before a shimmering force field appeared, enclosing them with a faint blue glow. Most elevator type devices had that safety feature, given drunken patrons walking off the edge tended to be bad for business.

  As they rose, slowly that they might admire the scene, he noted how the main level of the marketplace evolved from a utilitarian shipping bay to a ramshackle set of structures and tents. The eclectic mixture of color and style jarred the senses. How such chaos managed to function he couldn’t understand. He much preferred the ordered sense and rhythm of a well-moving cog, linking into more cogs, rotating pulleys, and turning gears. Structured, with everything in its proper place.

  He needed that more than ever. Something appeared to be off-kilter inside him of late. His emotions were all over the place, enough that he wanted to slap himself with an out-of-order sticker. Could not be held responsible for what he did. Especially where Ursy was concerned.

  The lift reached the ceiling of the first level, and the blue shield turned into a commercial as they passed through a utility layer. He didn’t pay the advertisement much mind despite the many breasts bouncing on the shielding.

  They entered the next layer as the paid advertisement ended. Welcome to the floor of vice, where gambling reigned. Three different entrances available, offering different experiences from the basic smoky room with loud bells and strobing lights, to the quieter multi-player games of chance, to the big spenders who wanted opportunities to bet lavish amounts of wealth on the outcomes of fights.

  They passed into another commercial as they switched floors into the precious commodities section guarded by numerous beings who inspected everyone entering through the massive door. A few people got off in search of rare treasures, leaving only Wulff behind.

  Another advertisement for a pleasure planet promising every carnal delight before they moved to the next level, the flesh market, where captured slaves were auctioned to the highest bidders. Some went off to spend their lives as servants. The more attractive ones were snatched and turned into courtesans while the plump and meaty made exotic meals for those with a curious palate.

  Seeing a familiar face, he jumped off the lift, moving quickly to tap on the shoulder of his friend.

  Ray whirled, ready to snarl, only to exclaim, “What in the fiery pits of the Mezuna mines are you doing here?”

  It occurred to Wulff to admit he followed a clue about a possible piece of the God Gear. After all, Ray was part of his crew. They’d made a pact to share information and, after expenses, the wealth.

  Yet he lied instead. “Needed to make a stop for supplies and repair. Ursy smashed the window on the nose of her ship. Someone should teach her how to pilot.” Said with a straight face, even as inside he snickered, imagining what she would say if she heard him blame her. Actually, she probably wouldn’t retort; she’d retaliate in a way that would hurt.

  “I’ll bet that put her in a brilliant mood.” Ray’s lips twisted. “I’ll be sure to stay out of her way then.”

  “What about you? Why are you here?”

  “No reason.”

  Wulff couched his surprise when his friend obviously lied. “Where’s Zak?” Because last he’d seen, Ursy’s brother had chosen to ride along with Ray.

  “Around here somewhere.”

  “Buying a slave?” Surprising given the Siyborgh stance that owning anyone sentient was wrong. Jwls and his new wife were fighting to have humans raised from barbarian to legal status. It wasn’t going well.

  “Yes and no. It’s complicated.” Ray fidgeted.

  “Are you going to kill something?”

  “Hopefully not.”

  “Steal?”

  “Quite possibly.”

  Wulff grinned. “Kind of wish you’d asked me to help.”

  “No you don’t. This crazy idea is all Zak’s fault,” Ray muttered, casting a glance over his shoulder.

  “So why not walk away?”

  “I can’t.” Said on a sigh. “Like I said, complicated.”

  “If you need a hand, I’ll be around for a few cogs at least. Ursy, too.”

  “Good to know. We might need a distraction.” Ray glanced at his wrist, the message displayed for his eyes only. “I gotta go”

  Wulff let Ray move far enough away that he wouldn’t notice right away that he shadowed. His friend acted a tad too strange for him to ignore. The flesh market proved chaotic and ripe with scent. The section he passed through being relegated to the beasts raised by farmers or captured in the wild and sought by chefs for their rare dishes. From slender avian creatures with skin that would crisp nicely to fat, meatier multi-legged bovine animals that would make big roasts and thick steaks. Or his favorite: ribs.

  A rumbling in his mid section reminded him to hit a venison vendor on his way out. It would be nice to eat something fresh and savory rather than the bland stuff available via the meal replicator. It was the only thing with a computer chip Ursy allowed on board—at his insistence after their last batch of goods had a bug infestation—but she never ate anything without dipping her finger in i
t, testing for poison with a specialty rod embedded in her flesh.

  He had to halt suddenly as he entered the next section of the slave market, moving from dinner possibilities to bedmates. The change in atmosphere proved abrupt, starting with the scent, light and floral, meant to tease the senses and harden the rod. He wasn’t immune.

  Next came the music, lightly piped and a relaxing sound. Combined, they lulled buyers into spending.

  The raised daises dotting the open courtyard acted as pedestals to display the various courtesans upon them. An attractive Roachina with her brilliant teal carapace and clicking mandibles. A moist Kanishqui, all tentacles and quivering flesh. Then there were the more humanoid types. Blue skinned. Purple. Even an Earthling flaunted his stuff.

  Zak and Ray were poised at the foot of a pedestal holding a cloaked figure. Slight in shape. Hidden from view, and yet she had a huge crowd surrounding her.

  He nudged one of those watching. “What’s the deal?”

  The fellow kept most of his eyestalks on the prize. Only one of them turned to look at Wulff. “Seeress.”

  “For real?” Wulff knew better than to scoff. The universe held many mysteries, and when it came to unraveling them or communicating with gods, there existed special beings who could form that bridge.

  “They say she predicted the fall of the last market.”

  Not exactly a huge feat given the market moved around quite often.

  “Anything else?”

  “Rumor says she knows the location of some secret planets with treasure.”

  That kind of rumor would explain the crowd and why the bidding moved fast and fierce. More surprising, Zak was one of those going higher and higher, only pausing at a ridiculous price.

  Someone bid higher than Zak.

  Going once.

  Twice.

  Zak’s hand twitched but remained by his side as Ray whispered something to him, probably trying to talk some common sense into him. What would Zak need of a seeress?

  The gavel came down as the auction finished.

  The cloaked being went to an Ymp and Zak appeared peeved as he stalked away from the pedestal, Ray by his side.

  Wulff stood in their path. “Any reason why you were about to bankrupt yourself?”

  “Wulff, my friend so good to see you.” Zak offered a fake smile.

  He snorted. “Now I know you’re hiding something. Why were you bidding on a seer?”

  Zak shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “That’s what Ray said. Does this have to do with the God Gear?”

  “No,” Ray exclaimed.

  “Not really,” Zak added, which earned him a glare.

  “Which is it?” Wulff glared at then both.

  Zak sighed. “It’s—”

  “Let me guess; complicated.” Wulff rolled his eyes. “Really, though, asking a seeress for help?”

  “Why not?” Zak huffed. “And since you’re so interested in my business, why are you here?”

  “Broken window. Ursy insisted we get it fixed.”

  “Speaking of whom, where is my sister?”

  “Off terrorizing the merchants on the first level, I imagine.”

  “Speaking of the God Gear, did you find another piece?” Ray asked.

  He stuck to the truth. “Yeah, but it’s not much to talk about. Literally the size of a fingernail. We’ll auction it off and split proceeds when we bring it back home.” Where they’d get the best price. He didn’t mention the other piece he hoped to find.

  Zak snickered. “I’ll bet Ursy wasn’t impressed it was teeny tiny.”

  “Understatement.”

  “I’m surprised you’re still travelling with her,” Zak observed. “I expected her to have murdered you by now.”

  “Your faith in me is astonishing.”

  “More like my faith in my sister.”

  “She’s not that bad,” Wulff defended.

  “Holy leaky tit on a Xanunian slag. He’s sleeping with her.” Ray blinked.

  “Or he killed her and he’s hiding it?” Suddenly imbued with brotherly concern, Zak glared at him.

  “I did not kill your sister. I told you, she’s shopping in the market.”

  “You left her alone? Here? Is that wise?” Ray asked, but his concern wasn’t for Ursy’s safety.

  “She knows about the no-killing rule.”

  “You know how she feels about rules.” Zak shook his head.

  “Where are you off to?” Ray asked.

  “Upstairs. And I should get going. I’m late for my appointment.”

  Both Zak and Ray lifted their gaze overhead and said, “Oh.” They knew what vice the floor above catered to.

  “I really should get going. If you change your mind about needing a hand, give me a buzz.” He flicked the cog on his collar. While he might not believe in wearing a permanent communication device, or even carrying one around, he did keep the equivalent of a buzzer tuned in to only a few of his friends.

  “We’re done here,” Ray said.

  Whereas Zak replied, “I might need a distraction within the next turn of a cog.”

  “Are you planning something?” Wulff frowned.

  “Maybe.” Zak grinned. “Wish us luck.

  As Ray and Zak left, arguing in low tones, Wulff was tempted to join them. It sounded as if they were planning mischief. As intriguing as it sounded, Wulff had elsewhere to be.

  He returned to the lift, paying once more to rise another floor. Enduring another commercial that was more of a reminder by a cowled being with a breathing problem. “Killing is not allowed. Resolve disputes away from the market or face the consequences.”

  What consequences? They were never made clear. Did those who trespassed get a banishment and warning? Or was it a kill for a kill?

  Want to bet by the time he left, he’d find out? Ursy had a temper on her.

  The lift stopped, and he stepped off into an opulent space rendered to appear like the entrance to a park. There was lush green carpet underfoot, trees rooted in pots, and flowers all over.

  A handsome male, wearing naught but a loincloth, his skin quite blue, ,with short, spiked silver hair and dark eyes, greeted him with a bow. “Welcome to the garden of E’den. I am Kayne. Might I say you’re looking very fine in that coat.”

  The obvious compliment brought a sigh. “Do we really have to play this game?”

  “Do you enjoy games? We have many available. Do you prefer group activities or more intimate one-on-one encounters?”

  “Wouldn’t it just be easier to ask people to stand still for a moment rather than make inane conversation?” Because Wulff had been around enough to know Kayne’s job was merely to stall him for a moment while scanners checked him out for disease, weapons, and anything that might cause trouble for the owner of the garden.

  Not all wives and husbands were happy when they arrived hunting down their legal partner. Some incidents ended in bloodshed and death, which was never good for business. Precautions were often taken to avoid jealous confrontations. And, in the process, they also assured the health of their courtesans.

  Ignoring the tingling as he was scanned, Wulff stated, “I’m here to see Lylyth.”

  The blue male arched a brow. “I’m afraid Miss Lylyth is unavailable to clients. But if that is your style and preference, we do have a lovely—”

  “You misunderstand.” Wulff slashed his hand to interrupt. “I am here on business, not pleasure. Advise her that Wulff is here to see her.”

  While the greeter never moved, Wulff saw his eyes lose focus as he received instructions via implant.

  Wulff preferred to use an earring in the shape of a shell that acted as a receiver and sender of wireless speech. It could be removed at will. Most of the time he chose to not wear it, saving it only for group missions. In retrospect, he should have worn it today.

  “Please disarm yourself.” The blue male indicated a basin with a hinged lid.

  Wulff crossed his arms. “Not on your life. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  “Killing is prohibited.”

  “But giving you something to scream about when you look in the mirror isn’t,” Wulff snapped. “So if you want to keep your pretty face, take me to Lylyth.”

  Once again, Kayne’s eyes lost focus as he received a message. “You may keep your weapons. If you would follow me, the mistress will see you in her boudoir.”