Free Under Dark Sky Law by Tamara Boyens Page A

found herself
unceremoniously dumped at a fancy hotel room. It was odd, the way
she was so brusquely handled, but taken to such expensive
accommodations. The kind of treatment they received and the
lodgings they were given varied by dome city and by the current
political attitudes of any given area, but usually the two matched
up—if they were given shitty quarters they were usually treated
like shit too. Since the majority of their business ran out of the
Phoenix, they were usually guaranteed a relatively posh experience,
and she was indeed being given the highest standard of everything
from first rate healthcare to a top ranked hotel room, but she
hadn’t seen a single familiar face since she’d passed out on top of
Sanchez.
    The hotel was in downtown Phoenix, a place
she’d been in many times, but it was actually a few rungs up in
extravagance from what they were used to receiving there. The
Niagara Hotel was supposed to be the epitome of modern comfort, but
there was something almost sad about it. The front of the building
was all shiny chrome and soft baby blue neon tubes flowing across
the wide picture windows in an attempt to simulate running water.
Everything about it seemed to promise a bright future where nature
and technology would merge into some symbiotic harmony. As Xero
gazed at the sign she laughed internally at its ludicrous pretense.
This whole place was one big lie, a symbol of the propaganda parade
that everyone in the domes was surfing. Their resources were
dwindling. Their days were numbered. It was only a matter of time
before they lost their false visions of glory and superiority and
were buried under the dirt and despair that everyone else had been
living with for the last twenty years. But until then, Xero would
happily enjoy their swanky hotel.
    After an uncomfortable ride with a cadre of
military personnel in a vehicle that was not unlike the one she’d
crashed several days prior, she was more than happy to leave the
company of the all the grunts and the hospital personnel and
finally have some privacy. Or at least relative privacy. There were
always eyes watching. A true professional managed to do their
business despite prying eyes, but sometimes extreme measures were
necessary. A quick sweep of her surroundings would give her a good
idea of what approach to take. She was so thirsty for information,
she felt like some poor sap in the desert constantly crawling
towards an oasis mirage.
    After reaching the precipice of the new room,
a recruit that looked young enough to be her son roughly thrust her
across the entry way. She bit her lip and smiled. “Is there a
problem?” she said, trying to keep her voice as neutral as
possible.
    The young man was wearing a blue dress
uniform so crisp it looked like it had come right out off the
assembly line. He was thin, and his buzzed hair was such a pale
blond that she almost couldn’t see it. He reminded her of some of
the nondescript serial killers and mass murderers that had
periodically made headlines in decades past.
    The recruit’s eyes stayed cold, but his lip
curled in disdain. “You’re the problem,” he said and stopped,
clearly holding back further expletives.
    Truth be told, Xero felt kind of
uncomfortable, which was funny for a woman that had the confidence
to directly command a legion of several thousand people. After
she’d gotten past medical clearance they had issued her a woman’s
military uniform, which consisted of a dark navy coat that buttoned
up to her chin, and a matching navy skirt that hugged her legs and
stopped well above her knees. The uniform itself was fine. She’d
spent more than enough time dressed in all manner of outfits, and
she could wear anything comfortably given the right circumstances.
It was just the dissonance. Attitude-wise she was having problems
controlling herself for reasons that she wasn’t totally sure about.
The uniform was clashing with how she was feeling like portraying
herself, and stripped