Until All the Stars Are Found

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The building across the street has been abandoned for years now. The signs listing it for demolition have faded, the dates long past, making the entire building a scrap heap in its own right. I shove aside the metal panel I had put in front of the door and move inside the dark interior. In the corner closest to the door is a pile of scrap metal that I have collected over the last few weeks. This building was picked over long ago, so I’ve felt pretty confident no one would come through again. I sift through the pieces of metal, appraising each by its color, thickness, and overall look. I have pipes, pieces of hardware from long ago machines, and sheets of metal cut into weird shapes by prior owners. Most of the parts have bits of rust, but one sheet of copper catches my eye. I’ve been saving this piece to sell when it got colder. Most people still use copper piping, even though the element is so rare now. When it gets colder here in New Seattle, pipes burst all the time, leaving people scrambling for the metal. I was saving it, but since I am leaving, it will probably get me the most cash now. I slide the pliable metal away from the wall. The piece is three-foot by two-foot and will probably get me somewhere around 175 credits. I just have to hope that that plus the other money in my bag will be enough for a tablet for Sarkus. I don’t have long until the Market closes. I thread my arms through the handles of the duffle bag, turning it into a rough backpack that digs into my shoulders and carry the piece of copper in front of me.

I move quickly through the streets, it's dark—the time of day where you don't want to linger. The shadows grow long, and the floating solar streetlight flickers to life. But this is also the perfect time for a sale.

When I was little and would go out with Dad, a bundle of metal sheets and pipes between us, headed to the Market. Mom and Dad would spend all day when Sarkus and I were in school searching for metal, then Mom would stay home, and Dad and I would go sell it. He taught me all his tricks for making the price go up and to make the haggling process quick and to the point.

Then Mom and Dad died. I was watching Sarkus at home, but we heard the blast. Gang violence was and is nothing out of the ordinary, so we didn't think anything of it. We had just gotten off a video call; they had just finished a sale and were coming home, Sarkus and I had made cookies. They were meant to be back in five minutes. They were excited to get the cookies when they were hot.

Someone must’ve thought our car was someone else's. It was four hours before I called the police. Twelve hours after the blast when the officer came to our door. Sarkus and I woke up to the officer standing over us in the living room. A plate of cookies on the coffee table.

I started selling the rest of the scraps Dad had in the stash two weeks later. At first, people didn't take me seriously. But they recognized me. A lot of the sales I got that year were pity sales. I had to be careful though, the foster parent Sarkus and I were with didn't like me going into the Market. But we didn't want to ask for anything. The third time they caught me with scraps was when they had us re-homed. They screamed at me for getting into gang violence. But I never sold to the gangs. Not at first. The next home was pretty much the same, no one understood my need to keep selling. I didn't really understand it till recently. I needed to do it because it made me feel close to Dad.

I have to make this last sale a good one. One that will pay off for years to come.

I turn into the dark alley and pass under the arch. I hear the sound of the blasters powering up. Not everyone who sells in the Market is affiliated with the mob. But the Market is owned by the mob, and the mob must protect its property, which includes the vendors that pay them to be there. A monitor flashes, and my face appears on the screen. “Ada Gomez,” I say, waiting for the voice tech to recognize me.

“Welcome, Ada.” It intones, and I hear the weapon's power down. “Is there anyone you would like to meet with today?”

The monitor lowers to eye level, and a list of other patrons of The Market show up on the screen. “Tortie, I want to meet with Tortie.” The other names flash away, and Tortie glows white. They send the message to him, and when my request is met with an answer, the name turns green.

The monitor pings, “Tortie has agreed to meet with you. He is in Bay 9. He will expect you in five minutes. You will have ten minutes for your sale. Do you accept these terms for your meeting? Please note that this does not guarantee a sale.”

“I agree to the terms,” I say, and wait for the message to be passed along.

“Welcome to The Market, Ada,” the monitor lifts away, and a doorway slides open. I hurry down the passage and into the general sales area. Bay 9 is, of course, the farthest away from the entrance. But Tortie would do that. He and his cronies need time to get out when The Market is raided. On a quiet day, it can still take up to ten minutes to get through to Bay 9, and today it is packed. I force my way to the edge of the large room and push my way along the wall, passing the other bays. Vendors bark at me as I shove behind their stalls, but I just keep going. I can see Bay 9, with its glowing number over the heads of everyone. Luckily the closer I get, the more the crowds thin out. This is where the pricier sales go down. And few people can't afford to be down here anymore. I could quickly get 50, maybe even 100 credits for my sheet of copper in the general sales area, but a sheet this big is a rarity. Something I know Tortie will value. And he won't try to swing any bullshit with me, because he knows I won't with him.

I am passing Bay 7 when I see the first of Tortie's men. Their skin is a deep orange, in the right lighting, it looks like it could just be a bad tan. But their eyes, vertical slits like a goat, give them away. They glue themselves to me like a shadow. Protecting both me and the item for sale, while also appraising me, and whether I am a threat to Tortie. I recognize the gentleman who flanks my right side and nod as he approaches. The guy to my left is new, jumpy. His hand hovers at hip height, ready to grab his blaster. “Your buddy gonna shoot me?” I ask, keeping my gaze locked on the sign for Bay 9. Out of my peripheral, I see the one I recognize wave the other down.

“Sorry, Ada, he doesn't know a lot of people 'round here yet.” I nod and try to pick up the pace. I am running out of time. I hear a squawk and the sound of Tortie speaking in his native Plutonian. The guard responds, then calls me. “Ada, he will wait for you. No rush.”

I nod and take a deep breath, slowing my pace to a brisk walk. My heart is pounding as if I just finished my gravity run. Tortie expects a lot from his clients. Whether or not he and my father were friends, I still need to prove myself to him to get this sale. Bay 9 looms overhead, and I slowly raise my hand to the sensor. It scans my palm print before blinking green, and the door slides open. Knowing the protocol, I wait for my shadows to step behind me. One takes my duffle bag to search, while the other takes the sheet of metal from me. I step forward into the room and put my hands up. A third guard in the room steps forward and pats me down.

“Ada! Baby, how are you?” Tortie calls from his seat on the far end of the room.

I smile, “Hi, Tortie, I'm doing pretty good today.”

“Blowing off another guardian's rules?” He asks, waving off the guard. “She is clean. Ada would know better than to bring any dirty s**t in here.” He says, “Right, Ada, baby?” The words are sweet but carry an edge of malice. People have approached me more than once to snoop on Tortie. I let him know every time, and he took care of it. I don't know exactly how he and Dad became friends, but Tortie is a powerful ally. I don't do runs for him, or snoop for him, but I will tell him if people come to pry. Does that make me a rat? Maybe. But it keeps people away.

“Of course, sir, I don't deal in that,” I reply, glancing at the guard going through my bag. He holds up the wad of credits I put in it. “If any of that goes missing, can I clock him?” I ask Tortie as waves in the guard's direction. The Plutonian glances down and quickly shoves the money back in the bag, and Tortie and I laugh.

“Ada Baby, come, come, sit with me.” I slide onto the couch and sit next to Tortie. He puts an arm around my shoulder and draws me close to his side. His skin is cold. I hate the way it feels. He does this every time I come in. It makes my skin crawl. But I know better than to resist him. I need him. Especially with me leaving. I need that layer of protection to cover Sarkus.

My watch buzzes, and I glance down at it, a message from Shaelin.

SHAELIN: Update on visitation. The family said no. I'm sorry. Melody insists that it would be too upsetting for Sark.

I sigh and sit back, “shit.”

“What's wrong, Bug?” Tortie asks, continuing with the pet names. He blinks a few times, his goat-like pupil dilating.

“Sark, he is being moved again, and the family doesn't want to give me visitation before I go,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“Go? Where are you going? Do you know where he will be moved to?” Tortie turns more to me, thankfully moving his arm off my shoulders.

“I don't know where he is going yet. Shaelin said he was assigned but didn't say where, just that it would be outside of New Seattle. I will be going to Houston, then hopefully off-world.” My frown turning to a grin, “I made it through the first step of getting into the program.” My smile falters, “I just hope that my plans work out, and I will get to see Sarkus more soon.”

“Why don't they want you to see him?”

I shift, “I think it's mainly, so he isn't super upset when I leave, coupled with the fact that he is being re-homed. It was tough when he was little, but he has been better now that he is older. He used to make himself sick. But I am going to see him tonight. Since I will leave tomorrow. I need to see him. I promised him I would say goodbye.”

“Well, I am proud of you. If you want, we can keep an eye on him while you are gone.” He waves over one of his guards and tells him something in Plutonian. “We can put a tail on him if you want. Give you updates where he is going if they don't give you any updates.”

“I would appreciate that.” I say, “when I see him tonight, I will let him know that he may see some of your guys. I think he will remember who you are.”

“Good. Now, what brings you here? You aren't here just to tell me you passed a few tests.” Tortie asks. I nod and point at the sheet of copper. He gets off the couch and takes the copper sheet from his man. “This is a beautiful piece. What are you selling it for?”

I tuck my feet up, feigning confidence. “I wanted to get it out of my stash, it would be a shame if someone stole that while I was gone, but using the credits in there,” I nod at the bag, “and the credits I make from this I am going to get Sarkus a tablet so we can communicate if I when go off-world.” I drape my arms on the back of the couch, mimicking the relaxed position of the Plutonian mobster.

Tortie grins, “well, I can fix that, no problem,” he snaps his fingers, says something in his garbled native tongue, and a few moments later, someone brings him a tablet. “Here, give this to little Sarkus.” He hands it to me. “For real, my gift to you for passing the test.” He pauses and turns back to his man. “This is clean, right? One of the new ones?” they nod, and he grins. “Good.”

I am dumbfounded for a second. I turn the tablet over and over in my hand, glancing at the serial number on the back. It is one of the newest releases. “Wow, that- thank you, you really don't have to, but I truly appreciate it. Thank you. I don't know what to say.”

“Say no more, babe, it is a gift to you. From your favorite Plutonian.” I turn the tablet over in my hands, removing it from the case. This thing is in mint condition. The charging pad doesn't even have that many scratches like it hasn't been used like at all. “Now, what do you want for that piece?” Tortie asks, turning the sheet of metal over in his burnt orange hands.

I look over the piece again. “I'm looking for a hundred and seventy-five credits.”

“One seventy-five, really?” Tortie says. He looks at one of his men. They c**k their head to the right. He turns back to me. “One fifty.”

I scoff, “One hundred and fifty, really? Oh no, for that, I'm bumping it to two hundred.” I lean forward on my knees, enjoying the rise and fall of the gambling game.

“Hmm, Nah, let's do one hundred eighty.” He says, stroking a coarse beard.

I wave him away, and he scowls. “You do realize that winter is coming to New Seattle in just a few months? Think of all the burst pipes, all the repairs that could be made with that single piece. Let alone welding it with others. It is worth at least two hundred credits.”

He nods along. “Okay, Baby girl, I see what you are saying. I see you.” He hands the copper sheet back to his guard. “Ok, ok, one hundred ninety.”

“Done!” I put a hand out, and we shake on it. Someone comes by with the contract on a tablet, and I quickly fill out the information and sign it. While I do, Tortie waves a hand, and one guard takes the piece of copper away, the other transfers the credits to my account. I twist the dial on my watch and view my account, the numbers on my account rise by the agreed one hundred and ninety credits. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Tortie.”

He leans back against the couch and takes a big swig of his drink. “Uh- uh, you are going to make me go broke, girl.”

I laugh and toss my ponytail over my shoulder. “That may be, but that is because I always bring the good stuff that you can't pass up.”

The male growls, but this time, there is no anger in it. “You know, Sweetie, you are so right. I can't even be mad.” He pulls me into a hug. “You know your father would be so proud of you?” I feel a lump form in my throat and nod. The Plutonian laughs, “well, he may not have been too happy to see you coming to sell me s**t. But you best be sure he and your mama would be proud to see their baby girl going places. I know I am.” He plants his cold lips on my forehead, in an attempt to emulate the human kiss, “I know I am. You are going places, baby girl. Just don't get so good at your job that you get a stick up your ass whenever I call.”

“Never,” I laugh. “Thanks, I will see you around.”

“Yeah, you will. Good luck and tell Sarkus I will see him around too. We will keep an eye on him for you.”

I give Tortie another quick hug, nod at the guards, and head back out the door.