The Cyborg’s Runaway by Samantha Charlton EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Samantha Charlton
- Language: English
- Genre: Galactic Empire Science Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
COLLISION
“YOU DRIVE A hard bargain, cyborg,” the Vulkar growled. The hulking
male had his hands on the table. Blunt fingers, tipped with sharp black
talons, tapped the polished surface impatiently. “But I’m not giving those
parts to you for less than five hundred hard credits.”
Vic didn’t break the Vulkar’s stare. Leaning back in his seat, he let
another silence draw out between them.
Fash wouldn’t be able to read his face.
Vic didn’t like the expressionless features that stared back at him when
he looked in the mirror these days—but the blankness helped him at times
when he met with clients. It made him look as if he had nerves of steel, as if
warm blood didn’t still pump through his veins.
Others found it unnerving. His blank face gave him the upper hand—and
he liked that. It was just as well too, as irritation thrummed through him
now. He knew Vulkars loved to haggle, but he couldn’t be bothered these
days.
“Four hundred,” he drawled after a long pause. “It’s a good deal, and you
know it, Fash.”
Fash Mir-Ferrin’s heavy brow lowered over deep-set eyes, while his
broad shoulders stiffened under his skin-tight tunic. Vic’s gaze never
wavered, although a slight flicker of concern did ignite in his gut.
Vulkars were notorious for their volcanic tempers and violent tendencies.
Vic was a tall and well-built human cyborg male, but those huge hands
could snap his neck like a twig.
Nonetheless, Vic had to move the stolen machinery parts on—he was
taking a risk and needed to be paid well for it.
Fash knew how it worked.
Vulkar and cyborg sat in a dark, crowded bar. Pungent smoke from clove
pipes hung low in the air. It was noisy enough in here to give the patrons
privacy: the jaunty strains of flutes two Crall were playing at one end
blended with the rumble of voices.
Fash and Vic had taken a booth in the corner, a position that afforded
them a view of the establishment while giving them the privacy their
conversation required. Two empty glasses sat between them.
Vic fought the urge to drum his own fingers on the table. Damn it, these
staring matches were wearing. He just wanted to agree on a price and get
the merch loaded. Obsidian would be wondering where he’d gotten to.
After they moved this shipment on, he and his first mate planned to take a
much-needed vacation. They’d earned it.
“Four hundred and eighty,” Fash muttered.
“Four hundred and twenty.”
A low growl rumbled deep in the Vulkar’s throat. His lips twisted,
revealing a pair of sharp fangs.
Those teeth were another reason why you didn’t want to piss off a
Vulkar.
“All right then … four hundred and thirty,” Vic said, careful to keep his
voice as expressionless as his face. “But that’s my last offer.”
Muttering a curse, Fash withdrew a small, circular device from a pouch
at his waist, a PCSD—a Portable Currency Storage Device containing hard
credits—and slammed it down on the table between them. “Thief.”
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