Truehearts & The Escape From Pirate Moon Jake Macklem (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

“Maybe you shouldn’t carry so much metal then. That’s just stupid.”

Cam studied her. “Are you serious right now?” He waited.

He’s the one carrying metal. What the shank does he want me to say?

When she did not answer he continued, “That metal is my family’s future! I have enough to get off Earth and get a good plot to homestead. That metal isn’t what’s going to get me killed—you are!”

The empty feeling in her center threatened to swallow her whole. Ace could not breathe. Her body felt cold and hot and tingled all over. His nose and both arms. She wanted to hurt Cam, badly. Instead, she threw the camera at him and ran.

In seconds she had reached the farthest reaches of the island, a whole thirty meters from the raft. I’ll just jump in the water and swim away! She walked to the water's edge, scrutinizing the surface for any other sign of another island, then balled her fists until it hurt. She was not sure if it was the frustration of there not being another island, or that she was looking for an island to swim to. Get a grip Ace!

The impulses coursing through her body happened so fast she could not understand them. She wanted to beat and hurt things. She wanted to curl up into Mick’s arms and cry. She wanted off this moon and out of the military. She loved her sisters and brothers that served with her, but she did it as a means to an end and never really understood want they were fighting for. To be told how to live and what you can and can’t do. Society is a leash with a fancy collar. She had heard Mick say it a million times. It’s just not—Ace saw the green light of the gas giant reflect on the waves. And it’s never going to be fair. Never can be.

She sat on the yellow grass her arms wrapped around her knees. Cam’s right, I’ll probably get him killed too. Everything he does is for his family, so—why help me? The lapping waves were rhythmic. He said it was the right thing to do… Mick flashed in her mind’s eye.

&

Ace ate her brownie, standing a few meters away, watching Mick deliver his fist to the man’s face over and over. At ten punches Mick let go of the man’s collar and he collapsed to the alley floor, crying.

“I don’t think your gonna take another ten. I’d suggest making a payment… Even just a couple hundred will knock off a couple of punches. You understand John?”

“Uh-huh.” John nodded his head.

Mick reached down and John flinched away, but Mick said, “It’s okay buddy. I ain’t gonna hurt you anymore.” Then he helped John to his feet and helped straighten his clothes and brush the dirt off. His face bloody and starting to swell. “Go put on ice on your face.”

“Thanks, Mick.”

Mick patted him on the shoulder. “Make a payment okay?”

Mick watched John walked off, a look of disappointment on his face. Then the giant man faced Ace and motioned with his head; the two started walking in the opposite direction. “What did you learn.”

“One punch for every hundred credits owed?”

He shook his head. “Anything else?”

“Well,” Ace looked up, “why did you help him up? You don’t normally do that.”

Mick beamed, “You’re right. Do you know why I don’t?”

Ace recited: “A People wishes to be loved, but often fear is equally powerful when inspiring. Love is waxing and waning like the moon. Fear is constant like the sun. Good People will find both love and fear. Fear from those that shun the light of your sun, and love from those with faith in the reflection of your moon.”

Still beaming, Mick asked, “And what did I just do?”

Ace chewed her bite of brownie then said, “You beat him up, but you showed him your moon. He even thanked you. He owes money, so why you being nice?” Ace took another bite.

“Most the shanksticks I knock on, owe because they ain’t worth the water they’re made up of. Betting, whoring, drugs, drink, or some illusion they think is real—but John? He borrowed for the only reason worth borrowing—his family.”

“Family?” Ace frowned and shoved the rest of the brownie in her mouth.

“His kid is sick. Burned through his allotted visits to find out what the problem was, then they told him he had to pay for the procedure himself or wait until next year’s allotments and hope his kid don’t die in the meantime.” Mick looked down at Ace. “What would you do if it was Shonda or Glitter?”

“I’d start a betting pool for when Shonda would die and use the money to pay for Glitter’s treatment.”

Mick laughed. When he caught his breath he said, “That’s not nice. You wouldn’t do that and neither would John. And that’s why he borrowed.”

“He didn’t have any other way to pay for the treatment, so he got the money from you,” Ace realized.

“Knowing every couple of months he was gonna get his face knocked on.”

“Why’d you loan him the money if you knew he couldn’t pay it back?”

“Oh, I ain’t scared he’s going to pay it back,” Mick scoffed.

“Then why beat him at all?” Ask asked bewildered.

Mick stopped and knelt, so he was close to eye level as he could get. “Loaning the money to John I did in love—to help him and his family. When I knock on John, it isn’t in hate or rage. It’s in respect. Anyone I loan money to knows what happens if they don’t pay. John knew too. If I don’t knock on John, I ain’t being fair.”

“But the Verse ain’t fair.” Ace struggled to understand the contradiction in her lessons.

“The Verse ain’t fair, but Peoples have to be. If we aren’t