50: Deva
Deva
There was no time to hide.
The Kaiahive workers wore black trousers and jackets—so they weren’t maintenance, and nor were they guards. Their hips bulged beneath their jackets, so Deva assumed they were armed. The one on the left—female, tall, with a mean frown—glanced down at the palm terminal she held, then up at Deva.
Deva smiled, walked over to them.
“Hey,” she said. “Wondered when relief would be coming.”
The woman frowned, turned to her male companion. He was shorter than her, but broader. He stuck out his chest.
Deva had met his sort before, and knew he’d use his bulk to push others around. In her experience, people like him weren’t too smart.
“Relief?” he said.
“Told me I’d only be here for an hour, and it’s already been an hour and a half.” She frowned,
