Free Children of Junk (Rogue Star Book 3) by James Wisher

wouldn’t last a month doing anything ordinary.”
    “And I don’t think I can stand much more excitement.”

8
    T he Rogue Star emerged from hyperspace a safe distance from Randon Prime, a heavily developed industrial planet. In the view-screen the planet seethed with clouds, most of which, according to his research, consisted of pollution from the thousands of factories churning out product twenty-four seven. The little patches of land and water visible through the black clouds looked brown and withered. There were no star cruisers or defense satellites in orbit and no one hailed them as they flew closer. The government probably figured no one would want to attack their dingy little planet. Of all the places for Cade to lie low why this toilet?
    “Is the atmosphere even breathable?” Iaka leaned forward in her chair for a closer look. Since their talk the two of them had settled into an uneasy company. He still loved her, more than he could say, but after what she said about an ordinary life he realized they wanted different things. Much as he wanted to be with her he couldn’t see himself living the life she wanted.
    “The visitors guide says ‘visitors from other worlds are advised to wear filters over their breathing orifices.’ Their words not mine. I’m not sure what bothers me more, that they feel the need to point out their gray air isn’t healthy, or that they have a visitor’s guide in the first place.” Marcus’s joke didn’t get so much as a smile.
    He sighed and aimed the ship at the planet. He called up the coordinates of the landing field Dra’kor mentioned, circled the planet until they faced the proper landmass, and descended. The Star rattled when she hit the atmosphere and though he couldn’t see it Marcus suspected they kicked up more than the usual flames as they streaked through the filthy atmosphere.
    They passed through the clouds and pollution and found their course took them toward a large city. Even from a distance the place looked like a hole. Tall, corroded towers jutted up hundreds of stories, all around them factories, some of them fifty blocks long, belched black smog into the air. On the edge of the city he spotted the flare of a ship’s engines as it took off. Marcus guided the ship that way and in short order they hovered near a rundown collection of rusty hangers, about half of them occupied by an equally run down collection of ships. Near the center of the hangers an office or control tower or something a little less rotten than the rest of the buildings sat like the single surviving tooth in a tabac chewer’s mouth.
    He waited for someone to hail them, but after a couple minutes gave up and slid into one of the empty hangers. He powered down the engines and turned to Iaka. “I’ll go talk to the owner. I’ve got an extra mask if you want to come.”
    She favored him with a halfhearted smile. “I think I’ll pass.”
    He nodded, not surprised, but disappointed all the same. The pollution wouldn’t do her flawless complexion any good anyway. Marcus left the cockpit and headed for the hold. Halfway there he stopped at a storage locker and retrieved his control gauntlet. He felt better the moment he strapped it on. In the hold he went over to a wall mounted bin and popped the lid. Inside a jumble of tools, spare parts, and other junk waited. He pawed them aside, looking for his breath mask. One of these days he’d have to make a real effort to get these bins as organized as his weapon’s locker. At last he found a mask, gray and grease smudged, it looked like he hadn’t used it in months. Probably not since the last time he cleaned the ventilation system. The filter looked good though so he strapped it on, opened the door and headed out, sealing the ship behind him.
    Marcus left his ship and headed toward the only non-hanger on the property. Lights burned behind the grimy windows so someone was home. He rapped on the door then pushed it open. Inside, behind a desk