Page 4 of Solomon's Ransom

It wouldn’t last, though. The war always started up again. People didn’t change.

“What’s the word?” a voice asked.

Sol glanced up. It was Remma, of course: maybe freshly risen, maybe awake the whole time since he had fucked Sol into oblivion. He was holding his own cup of coffee in one hand and his tablet in the other, and looked wide awake and obnoxiously cheerful, the way he almost always did.

Sol sighed. “The word,” he said, “is no word. They’re still honoring the ceasefire.”

“For now.” Remma sat in the chair across the table, which was the opposite of what Sol had been hoping he’d do, namely fuck off to somewhere else. “Loden wants us to go out again.”

“The two of us?” Sol asked, clarifying not because he didn’t understand but because he wanted Remma to be wrong.

“Who else? You think she’d send Turel out with us again? Not a chance.” Remma unlocked his tablet and started swiping around. “I’ve still got the packing list from last time. You want all the same stuff?”

“I guess so.” Sol shifted in his seat. His asshole felt a little tender. “No, try to get the other stove this time, if nobody else has it. That blue one sucks to light.”

“Agreed. But everything else?”

“Sure. The weather hasn’t changed that much since we were out last. I don’t think we’ll need anything extra. Maybe another tarp, just in case the rains start early.”

“Okay. I’ll get everything packed today. We can head out tomorrow.”

“That soon?”

Remma shrugged. “That’s what Loden wants. Maybe she heard something about an incoming drop.”

“Maybe. I’ll talk to her.” And try to convince her to send him out with anyone, literally anyone, else. He would even take Turel.

* * *

There was no drop,or maybe there was, but Loden didn’t know about it. “We’re running low on cash,” she said matter-of-factly when Sol sought her out in her office. “Is it worth the supplies to send you out? Not necessarily, but I don’t have a better solution. We need antibiotics for the winter, and nobody’s taking anything but coin. Sorry. I know you were just out.”

“It’s fine, but does it have to be Remma?”

“Why not Remma? The two of you work well together, and nobody comes home with a black eye, which is more than I can say about you and Turel.”

Okay, that was true, but the trouble with going out with Remma was that they ended up fucking every night, and it was hard to shake the habit after they got back. But he wasn’t about to say that to Loden. “He’s annoying.”

“He’sannoying?” She raised her eyebrows. “You’re twenty-four, not twelve. Somehow I think you can work out whatever interpersonal problems you’re having.”

Sol scowled at her. It was hard not to revert to acting like a bratty teenager when he was with her. She had, after all, birthed and raised him. They looked less alike as her hair went prematurely grey, but in every other way they were two prints from the same thumb: brown eyes, brown skin, the usual earth-colored hue of moonsiders. The same beaky eagle nose and strong chin. Sol didn’t know his father, and when he was younger he’d sometimes wondered if Loden had budded him off her body like a new starfish growing from a discarded arm. If any man had contributed, Sol bore no sign of it.

Loden sighed. “Sorry. Look, he’s the best option, and even if you don’t get along with him, you get along well enough that it hasn’t caused major issues in the past. Who would you rather be sent out with instead?”

It was a trick question; there was nobody. Their colony wasn’t big, and of the other scrappers, Remma was the best option. Sol had to admit that, even if he hated the side effects.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go with Remma. And hopefully find something.”

“The ceasefire won’t last forever. Maybe it will even end while you’re out.” Loden rubbed her face. “Just do your best. I wish we had a more reliable source of income, but. It is what it is.”

“That’s scrapping,” Sol said. “Don’t worry, Mom. Something will work out. It always does.”

“You’re more optimistic than I am,” Loden said, but she was smiling again. “How did that happen?”

“Couldn’t say. Not how I was raised, that’s for sure.”

“Get out of my office,” Loden said, and Sol went, grinning.

* * *