Forged (Star Breed #10) - Elin Wyn Page 0,2

each section of the finished sample.

The part wasn’t anything special as far as I could tell, just a redesigned particle flow distributor for long haul engines.

I’d done a dozen projects like it in the months since I’d accepted a contract on Station 112.

But none of them had landed on my tablet with an ‘urgent’ tag before.

“You hear more gossip than I do,” I said, still examining the part. “Any noise on the wheel as to why Serrup is all hot and bothered about this gig?”

Tinon snorted. “Potential new client, maybe a big one.” He spun out the program to replicate his parts, sent it to the fabricator without checking anything, and shut down his bench again. “Though I can’t imagine where in the sector they found a poor slob desperate enough to do business with Desyk.”

With a loud whoosh, the door to the lab slid open.

Startled, I fumbled the sample, then stared up at the mountain of a man standing before me, who had caught it before it hit the hard floor.

“That’s likely to be me,” the man said mildly, looking around.

He couldn’t have been answering Tinon.

For one thing, the labs were soundproofed.

For another, I couldn’t imagine anyone further from my mental picture of a ‘desperate slob’ than the man who now stood in the middle of the room, filling it with his presence.

It almost looked like he was wearing an exoskeleton, except that obviously he wasn’t. He just was naturally taller and broader at the shoulder than anyone I’d ever seen. He had black, raggedly cut hair and dark eyes that I’d bet didn’t miss much.

And right now, those eyes were fixed on my sample as he rotated it slowly in his massive hands.

“Can I have that back?”

He turned it over again. “You modified the spec,” he rumbled. “Why?”

Alcyon stepped beside him, scowling. “We’ll have her compensation docked, and another tech assigned to the project.”

The giant held up his hand. “Nope. Not until I have an answer.”

I shoved the goggles back, snarling a little as they caught in my hair. “Because the original design was flawed, that’s why.” I pulled up the specs, then my modifications. “Look at this. Your output valve was far too large to have any sort of control. You would have flooded the fuel chamber in minutes if you’d installed these as is.”

When he smiled, his entire face changed. Scary became stunning. “Good catch.”

I rocked back, studying him. His charcoal gray pants tucked into boots and khaki shirt under a black jacket, didn’t look like an engineer, but there was something about his tone of voice.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I spun back to my work bench and flipped through his specs again. “What sort of maniac sends deliberately flawed specs?”

“Apparently, this kind of maniac,” he grinned, and tossed the sample back to me.

And at that moment, I saw something interesting enough to forget my annoyance.

In the breast pocket of his jacket was a thick plastic card, with just enough showing for me to see the red stripe running down the side.

“Insulting important clients is a fast way to get your hours docked, Miss Joi,” Alcyon stated. “You may want to proceed carefully.”

Gripping the edge of the bench, I forced myself not to snap back. There were more important things to think about now.

The giant raised his eyebrows, watching me, but I stayed silent.

“If we’re done here, Mr. Hakon,” Alcyon said, “let’s continue on our way. We’ll start with the hub, the center of the workers’ social life around here.”

“I’d be happy to give you a tour, if you’d like,” I offered in my best perky voice. “Give you an actual worker’s point of view of things.”

Tinon looked shocked but didn’t say anything.

Smart man.

“That will be quite enough, Miss Joi,” Alcyon barked.

The two turned and walked out the door.

I braided and re-braided the end of my hair, thinking, finally throwing it back over my shoulder as I got back to work.

Fingers flying, I punched in the commands to start mass fabrication of the flow distributor.

I hadn’t found a flaw, the client hadn’t found a flaw, good enough.

I stood up and tossed the microgoggles on the bench.

“I think I’m calling it a day,” I announced.

“You never leave early,” Tinon said, eyes wide with confusion. “You’re always telling me the only way to get out of here is to take as many gigs as possible, get as many hours stacked up as you can.”

“Maybe I’m listening to your advice for a change,” I said, shrugging.