Ripe dates thudded into the eager boy’s hand. With a sly smile, he pocketed his payment and ran across the stone streets. He took his place at the corner, waving his arms like frail fairy wings to catch the attention of potential buyers.
“Is it wise, sir?” Quaid leaned against the rugged stone of the colosseum.
Jax had to weave through the crowd of people entering and exiting the white palace of commerce. He swiped a couple wallets on his way and snatched an apple from a woman’s shopping bag. Tossing his ill-gotten wages to his lieutenant, he said, “A little marketing fairy gets our job done while we focus on more important matters.”
He took a bite. A bitter taste danced across his tongue, along with a flavor that likened more to a lime. Examining the fruit, he found the one inconsistency. A greenish star bursting from beneath the stem.
Growling under his breath, he tossed the fruit over his shoulder. “Why can’t the universe grow normal produce?”
Quaid’s eyebrow rose, adding an ounce of character to his flat expression. “If you’re done complaining about foogies, I’d like to discuss these matters you deem so important.”
Jax rolled his eyes while taking his place beside his lieutenant. The people of Zaronin ignored them, too occupied with their petticoats and flowing skirts. Every color had a tinge of gray, minus his litter which rolled around the street disturbing the peace.
“Hand me the journal.” While Quaid complied, Jax took one of the wallets and rifled through the contents. Paper money and metal cards, hardly worth anything beyond the atmosphere of Zaronin. Not a coin or scrap of gold.
Quaid pulled the book from the bag containing their red leather jackets. He also fished a pen from his cargo pants, passing both with a placid gaze. “You’re too ambitious, sir.”
With a scoff, Jax replied, “If a man isn’t ambitious, he’s dead.” Flipping through the journal, he perused his previous notes. Entrances, guard counts, hallways. A map of the Raven Flame facility where the council resided.
“Let me restructure.”
“Rephrase.”
“We serve the Raven Flame council, who has hitherto avoided incarceration and death for several generations. You’re coming against a machine without flaw.”
Jax turned to a blank page, meeting the man’s eye. “There is always a flaw that can be exploited.”
Quaid shook his head, dark blond locks coming loose over his brow. “Not one built correctly.”
Jax smirked, returning to his page. “What do you see around us?”
Waves of frustration washed off him, crashing against Jax as he sorted his ideas. Finally, the familiar deep tone produced an answer. “Stone. People.”
“They’re not the same?”
“Course not.”
“Why?” Jax glanced from the corner of his eye.
Quaid’s pale skin grew red as he squinted at the vast crowds. Lips pressed, he hardly moved. “Stone’s inanimate.”
Jax gave a wavering whine. “That’s a conclusion.”
“It’s the only answer. People live, make decisions, walk. Stone does none of these.”
Jabbing the pen at him, Jax replied, “And that’s what I’m getting at. Machines and stone don’t think or act willy nilly whereas men do. People make mistakes.”
Quaid’s eyebrows hooded his nose. “Like you stealing a foogi instead of an apple.”
He pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth before returning to his writing. “I don’t appreciate such hostility.”
“Then speak plainly instead of attempting sage riddles.”
“That’s my charm, dear lieutenant.”
The boy from before came running over with a hefty man in a top hat. After confirming he had electronic payment instead of paper, Jax and Quaid took him to their ship.
He gawked at their cargo, lemurs from the jungles of Genga. Without hesitation, he bought a crate full and discreetly stowed it in a truck headed for his chateau outside the city.
Jax paid the boy with more food, and he ran off to find more buyers. His eye turned to the cloud-covered sky, but he saw through to Eden. To his brother’s farm and the son he’d left behind. Pulling the journal from his pocket, he turned to the first page. A letter he’d written but never sent.
Couldn’t send. His son deserved more than a sorrowful letter from a stranger. He needed his father.
“Say we succeed,” Quaid continued. “What comes next?”
Jax paced toward him while reviewing his thoughts. “We expand. Take over the backwater worlds and grow our numbers.”
“How?”
He lifted his chin. “Ambition. We absorb the smaller pirating clans and smugglers and offer new recruits vision.”
“You truly think you’ll succeed?”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
Jax shut the journal. “My concern, not yours. Now are you with me or dead?”
Quaid resembled the stone structures outside more than a human should. Made him impossible to read and even harder to persuade.
He turned to the opposing wall of the ship, crossing his thick arms. “You dragged me from my world, away from the dead-end life I was groomed for. I have nothing else to do but follow you.”
Shoulders slumping unintentionally, Jax let a smirk slide. “Good. I’d rather not pick a fight with you.”
Quaid’s deadpan chilled his nerves. “You’d lose.”