Free Cold Hard Truths 1: Vices by Nash Summers Page B

leave for my check-in, and I’d decided to spend it reminding myself all about the parts of me that still made me a moral man.

Chapter Five
    “Oh, Jones, you’re in for a world of hurt,” Amdia cooed at me.
    I sat in a small room that felt more like a closet than a place anyone could sleep. The bed I was seated on had been made with navy-blue satin sheets that felt like liquid against my rough hands. There were no windows in this room; this room didn’t even exist on blueprints. Minimal electronics: just a tablet in the shadowed corner, some old model I didn’t think was manufactured anymore, and cables running behind the bed and on the floor. The only thing that didn’t fit were the beaded curtains dangling in the doorway, shining and sparkling anytime someone walked through.
    “I know,” I replied with my head down. I’d shucked off most of my gear except for the standard black tank top and underwear.
    “I don’t think you know what I mean,” Amdia continued to lecture me, walking back and both in front of me. “I can see it in your eyes, plain as the sun.”
    “When’s the last time you’ve seen the sun, Amdia?” I grinned up at her.
    “Don’t give me none of that smart-ass attitude of yours. You’re hurting; I can see that. You have to be feeling it, Jones, right in here.” She reached out and poked the flesh on my chest over my heart.
    Amdia was a cybernetic organism, but I barely noticed anymore. She was a tall, exotic-looking woman with slanted cat’s eyes who always wore flimsy pastel-colored flowing dresses that just grazed the floor. The gowns left little to the imagination, which I’m assuming was good for business. Her long, pink, bone-straight hair was a wig; I’d found out by accidentally rushing by her and snagging it on my gear, but her caring eyes were nothing but real. Her lipstick was bright pink smeared across her lips almost impeccably, and her jewelry was the expensive kind I’d seen in shop windows. The robotic parts of her—her right leg, all the way up to the joint at her hip, and her right arm, which was the color of shined chrome—added to her allure.
    She’d been a co-owner of the brothel she’d been living and working in for years, since I’d met her. It was in the slums, but she made good money from men and women in all walks of life. Her brothel was, by far, not the only one in town, but it was one of the more decent ones that wasn’t cruel to its prostitutes. When I first met her as a child, she had been so overbearing and so full of life; I’d thought I might’ve been in love with her. She was so beautiful and unique, talking to me like I was precious. It wasn’t until years later I learned that she just had a bigger heart than most.
    ENAD employed the confidantes and kept them up-to-date with most of the basics of the missions that we partook in. They weren’t given details, but they knew approximate times we’d be coming and going, and they knew to keep tabs on us and report everything significant back to Corp.
    ENAD confidantes were kept throughout the life of the soldier, whether or not that soldier was on duty, so I’d seen Amdia a handful of times in the past few years. Sometimes I’d come to her after certain missions when I needed a place to lie low; sometimes I’d come to her when I was too strung out on Corx to stand up straight. She always had a place for me, and it was the closest thing to real affection I’d ever felt.
    “Corp was telling me you got yourself in some trouble out there,” she said, taking the seat next to me on the bed.
    “Yeah, a bit.” I gave her a small smile.
    “I know you can’t tell me about it, and that’s just as well, but I know you’re a good, strong man, Jones, and you’ll pull out of this situation cleaner than you were before. I can feel it, and you know I’ve always had a knack for these kinds of things.”
    I knew she was just saying those things to comfort me; we both knew what I had in store in two